


Boys

by caseyvalhalla



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Language, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Riku driving, Sora being badass, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, cheerleaders in glitter makeup, conveniently placed trees, fistfighting, flannel, grunge rock, people who know the alma mater, random nonspecific appearances of Disney characters, rose-tinted 90's nostalgia, use and abuse of cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 168,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caseyvalhalla/pseuds/caseyvalhalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's about growing up, mostly.  Sometimes it's about the guy you totally didn't kiss in the locker room and sometimes it's about the guy who climbed in your window.  Sometimes it's about hockey.  But sometimes it's about the difference between what's real and what's fake, between what you own and what you fight, between being a boy and being a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cumbersome

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic was originally written in 2008 and posted on Livejournal, and on fanfiction.net under the name Casey V, but I've decided to repost it to AO3 on recommendation from the lovely callunavulgari, since apparently there's a function that lets you download fics in pdf format over here, which I have to say is pretty bomb. Anyway. It's going to take another couple of days to get all the chapters up because this thing is friggin long.
> 
> Previous readers should note that the first two chapters have been edited since I originally posted them and I've misplaced the original versions, so you'll notice a few cosmetic changes and some cleaned-up language.
> 
> And of course, if you've never read this before, welcome! I hope you enjoy it.

**1:  Cumbersome**

_November, 1995_

 

The world ended on a Monday.  No one was particularly surprised by this.

Because really, the world had no business ending on one of the good days, like Friday or Saturday, or the ubiquitously quiet Sunday.  Even Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—although still part of the school and/or work week and filled with the mundane detritus of pens and paper and deadlines and the eternal and futile struggle to just _get by—_ were relatively good days, being the stepping stones along the path to Friday.

But there was nothing good about Monday.  Ever.  Therefore, if the world was going to skid to a halt and fall into the endless abyss of Apocalypse, Monday was the day to do it. 

Unfortunately for the rest of the human population, only one person in the entire world thus far actually _knew_ that their insignificant corner of the universe had come to an end.  And he, rather than proclaiming this in the streets with a cardboard sign and a tin can, was currently locked in his tiny little dormitory room, flung haphazardly on the lower of a set of bunkbeds, attempting to suffocate himself with a pillow.

Teenagers have a penchant for the dramatic like that.

Sora figured that his imminent suffocation was probably for the best. Were he to cease breathing, and therefore thinking, and therefore _living_ entirely, he would no longer be able to hear the cat-calls of each and every dorm-mate walking through the halls.  Some of them went so far as to bang loudly on the door and cackle madly. Some of them stood outside and sang little playground ditties at top volume.  Some of them, he was pretty sure, were the RA's—and that was just _beyond_ mortifying.  It was bad enough being teased incessantly by one's peers without adding cool older college students to the mix.  Insult to injury.

This was what the Apocalypse sounded like.  The raps on the door were the steadily approaching hoofbeats of the Four Horsemen.  Their cries and songs and cackles were actually those of anguish as they all drowned in lakes of fire.  Or something like that.

(He rather liked the idea of fiery lakes, actually.  That would be a fitting retribution, should he fail in suffocation.)

Death by fire aside, why none of the over-exuberant people outside his door ever got _bored_ with this routine was something Sora, oxygen supply rapidly diminishing, could not discern. Not even with every single one of his asphyxiating brain cells.

It was only the first day. They would get tired of it; that or the Rapture would happen and half of them would be gone--end of the world and all, right?  Sora told himself this. Told the pillow and the blankets smothering his face this.

They had to get tired of it sometime.

 

 

He scored the winning goal—Sora remembered that, clearly.  Remembered the scrape of kneepads against blacktop and the goalie flung low across the net, pads blocking all but that one tiny upper corner Sora was aiming for. Stick still flung out to one side and one bruised hand holding his face off the ground. The ragged groan behind him from the guy who'd nearly knocked him flat while he was taking the shot. He remembered how they froze like a tableau, like the slow-motion scene in the movies. Froze and held while the little orange ball sailed past the goalie's head and right into the net.

Sora was the hero. For an entire thirty blissful minutes out of his life, he was the fucking _hero_.

The locker room was a cacophony of cheers and whoops and hollers, of flying towels and win-crazed teenagers jumping all over each other. It was chaos. It was insane. It might as well have been a street hockey game of its own (that or a mosh pit, but some days it was hard to tell the difference). Sora's feet didn't touch the ground for at least seven minutes straight.  His teammates passed him off to each other over their heads until someone finally took pity on his equilibrium and deposited him in front of his locker.

And he was still the hero.

"Sora, Soooooora, way to clean the fuck up!"

"Sky-boy's got game. GAME."

"Yo, Sora. Sora! Party at the Flying Pie, like now!"

"SHOWERS GOD DAMMIT." (That was the coach.)

"Okay, so not like now. You live in the dorms, right? We'll send a car."

"GAME. The boy has GAME. Hell fucking YES."

He took a shower. He dried off, pulled on his street clothes. The locker room thinned out and the noise died down. And he was still the hero.

A month ago, he wasn't anywhere near being the hero. A month ago he was the space-case transfer student the hockey team dubbed "Sky-boy" with enough emphasis that everyone else in the school followed suit.  A month ago he wasn't doing much aside from holding the varsity bench down, only given a five-minute sprint when the coach decided his team needed a shot in the arm.  He was like a pair of hot tongs; no one was sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just dropped him he might light the world on fire.  Kid gloves were put on and a careful perimeter was marked out.

Mostly, though, it probably had to do with the fact that anytime he was in the game longer than five minutes his only accomplishment was racking up his team's penalties.

Two months ago, he'd been nothing approaching a hero.  Not even hero material.  Two months ago he'd sat in the school office with his mother and the coach and the principal and said that yes, please, he wanted a second chance.  That yes, he would be good and yes, he would play clean.

And he was, and he did.  Mostly.  Today he had, at least.  The body-check had been clean, the pass had been clean, the shot had been clean and the game was won.  Clean.

And he was the hero.

Sora stayed behind even when the locker room was nearly silent.  Until only a few rattles of metal and squeaks of sneakers against waxed tile betrayed human presence. Stayed sprawled on the wooden bench with his head leaned back against the locker door, because he was sure he was glowing. He was radioactive and lighter than air.

Maybe being clean felt like this.  Maybe it went along with being the _hero_.

"'Sup. Heard you won."

Sora mostly knew Riku by the back of his head--the general shape of round with ears and iridescent silver hair trailing down to a ragged curve.  Where the hair ended, there was usually some text on a t-shirt, or a silk-screened band logo, or a broad expanse of black or green or charcoal-gray.

He knew Riku by the safety pins that perpetually clung to his person, backpack and general area like an infestation of miniature silvery crickets.  He knew the left hand that pushed his hair back from his face, sometimes with green or orange highlighter painted on his nails, and the two hemp bracelets around his wrist.  One had a yin-yang in the center, the other had beads alternating in yellow and blue.

He knew this because Riku sat in front of him in English.  Because Riku sat at the lab desk two rows ahead of him in chemistry.  And because Riku's gym locker was directly across from his.  Riku's back was a constant as far as the average school day went—kind of like the unexplained pock-marks on the windows in the economics classroom, or the algebra teacher's drooping plant that withered and wilted but never quite died.  Riku's back was simply _there_ , essentially the same from one day to the next.

Most of their conversations occurred in profile.  And despite Sora's intimate knowledge of his back, he had never quite figured out why someone who wore safety pins and hemp and thermals under his t-shirts was also on the swim team.  And that supposedly he was really, really good at it—which was probably true when you took those shoulders into account.  Sora was quite familiar with them.

Shoulders aside, at that particular moment Riku's hair was trailing water down his back, bare of anything but skin.  The water made little rivers along his spine that ended where a towel was wrapped around his waist, just a hint of black mylar peeking over the edge. Sora was smiling far too much to care that he noticed this. "Yeah. I won. _We_ won."

"You scored the winning point, right?" Profile conversation. Riku's head was turned to the side, half of a smirk and one bright melon-green eye visible.

If that one eye lingered over-long on Sora, splayed out on the bench and grinning like a fool, he didn't notice that, either.  "Yeah."

"Good job."

That should have been the end of their exchange. Nothing further could be said involving English or chemistry notes, and Sora didn't know the first thing about swim team.  That was the extent of their relationship. Riku was a classmate he tended to see the back of a lot. Sora was the new kid who lived in the dorms and played on the street hockey team. That was it.

And none of that mattered anyway, because he had hero-ish things to think about, and a pizza party to go to.

Sora pulled himself out of his victory-induced daze enough to lean forward and start tying his skates back on, and smiled down at the floor like it was the most wonderful puddle-covered white tile he'd ever seen.  He stood up and steadied himself on the wheels, pulled his backpack out of the locker, and smiled at the messy interior like dirty gym clothes had the sweetest scent on earth. He turned to wish Riku goodnight, and smiled like—

"You're bleeding." Riku was nearly dry and dressed, barefoot still, towel tossed over one shoulder. And facing forward, both eyes frowning along the embarrassing number of inches between them and the top of Sora's head.

"Huh?" Sora said, mostly because he'd just realized why a small but dedicated portion of the female student body spent an alarming amount of their time making a hobby of staring at Riku.

Apparently, he pushed his hair out of his eyes so often because it hung over them rather a lot.  Actually, if Sora thought about it enough (which he didn't, but it should be noted anyway), it looked like he'd just let it grow without cutting for quite a while.  And aside from that, the face that the hair was hanging over was now very much _not_ in profile.  And on top of everything else, that face was probably what one—one being someone like Kairi, with a grin and a girly chuckle—would consider _pretty_.

Apparently, he was very stare-at-able.

That was beside the point (again), however. Sora was the hero. HERO. He was dazed and ecstatic and he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be having a conversation with Riku that was not in profile.  Particularly as doing so made something strange and nervous in the pit of his stomach _jump,_ like he'd accidentally swallowed one of Riku's safety-pin-crickets.

"Here."  And with no further warning, Sora's personal space was assaulted by a Riku who not only was not in profile, but was also very, very close.  And happened to still be a bit damp and smelled quite a bit like bar soap and chlorine. "Right here." Pale fingers lifted, past Sora's line of sight and pressed against his forehead, pushing aside a few brown spikes.

Something stung, and Sora hissed—vaguely recalling that he might have been beaned in the head during the game. No big deal, but he asked just to be polite, tilting his head back enough to look Riku in the eyes. If they were graduating to face-to-face conversation, Sora preferred that it actually be face-to-face and not face-to-chin. "Is it bad?"

"No, it's just bleeding a little." That same light smirk on Riku's face. It looked nice on him. Teasing. The cricket in his stomach jumped again to remind Sora of its presence.  "Might want to clean it up when you get—"

"OH MY GOD."

The words echoed off the lockers and the tile and the shower and bounced around the room.  Like one of those rubber high-bounce balls that someone had the misfortune of passing with a hockey stick (and Sora had a story about that and a Woolworth's and a flower display, but this wasn't the time to relate it).

And in the echoes of this bouncing there was another tableau, another movie freeze-frame, just like before.  One that lasted just long enough for Sora to realize three things:

1\. Riku was standing very close to him, with his hand in Sora's hair, looking down. Sora was standing very close to Riku, with Riku's hand in his hair, head tilted to one side to facilitate Riku's impromptu examination, and looking up.

2\. From behind Riku, were someone to be standing there, it was very possible that it might _look_ like they were doing something that had absolutely nothing to do with attending a small head injury. Something that in high school, particularly, was instantly incriminating and furthermore subject to extensive rumor and speculation.

3\. At that particular moment, half the starting lineup from the varsity street hockey team—returning to the locker room to track down their new star player for the aforementioned pizza party—were standing behind Riku.

By the time the tableau broke—splintering and scattering across the room like the fine china from the top of your mother's kitchen cabinets that she told you and _told_ you never to touch—Sora had a coarse red heat spreading across his cheeks.  Riku was staring over his shoulder. Oh, sure, _they_ got the profile talk—only he didn't. Talk. Riku didn't say a word, in defense of the awkward but innocent position they'd been caught in. Nothing to prove the misunderstanding.

He glared. He _glared_ , while Sora blushed, and the comedy of errors was complete.

The team captain—who clearly had no appreciation for drama or the series of coincidences that had brought them all together in this moment of total incomprehension—continued to gape at them for a full minute.  The last minute in which Sora was still mostly the hero.  Until finally, face in a twisted mess of disgust, he spat out, "What the FUCK?"

This was the precise point at which Sora's normal, happy life—and thus, the poor unsuspecting world—came to an abrupt and untimely End. Capitalized.

 

 

Sora remembered this clearly, several hours later into the night with his head stuffed under a pillow. If the tableau had broken like family-heirloom china, then the point at which The End came was when your mom screamed and grabbed the wooden spoon. It was inevitable.

He wondered if Riku had known that—the inevitability of The End. Wondered if that was why he didn't bother to talk, to try and reason.

He could have wondered longer, but his thoughts were derailed by the third rendition (so far) of someone outside his door caterwauling, "SO-RA AND RI-KU SITTIN' IN A TREE!" Tap, tap, tap of knuckles against the wood in time with the tune. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

The Horsemen were coming.

Sora wondered, once the noise had ceased, if it was possible to die of public humiliation.

 

 

Tuesday didn't start any differently than any day previously, as far as essentials went. Sora had a routine. Crawl out of bed at 6:25 and stumble blindly to the bathroom. Fill the sink with ice-cold tap water and stick his head in it until his brain woke up. Wash face. Brush teeth. Finger-comb his hair, because he'd given up on such useless appliances as combs and brushes years ago.

Clothes. Backpack. Stumble around the floor to find wherever his pager had landed the night before (under the desk, today).  Skates.

He took the banister down the dormitory stairs in the morning because climbing down in rollerblades took too long. Also, because that way the dorm mother would yell at him from behind the front desk and wake up the parts of his brain that had decided to go back to sleep.

Breakfast was a grab-and-go affair set up in the lobby and ready as the students began slowly filtering out of the building—because no self-respecting teenager ever woke up in time to actually sit down for breakfast before racing off to school.  Sora grabbed a bagel sandwich and a juice bottle. He ate while rolling steadily down the sidewalk to the main building.

Normal day. Normal like every other morning, normal like himself, transfer student from somewhere in California where everyone had a perpetual tan, enough of a stereotype that no one questioned his complexion.  Personable, friendly, okay to look at but demure enough to never make a scene of himself. Normal enough to blend in with the rest of the senior class like he'd always been there. Sora liked it that way—liked being able to just exist and live out the rest of his high school days without significant notice.  Mostly because if he didn't, his mom really _was_ going to come after him with a wooden spoon and he'd find himself grounded until his fortieth birthday, age of majority be damned.

The moment he skated through the front doors on Tuesday morning, however, he came to the staggering realization that somehow, things were definitely _not_ normal.

'Realization' came in the form of a tightly-wound knot of underclassman females, decked in entirely too much glitter and spandex.  They squealed loudly as a single entity and shrieked his name the moment they laid eyes on the undergrown and half-asleep senior rolling down the hall.

"SORA!"

Sora, to his credit, blinked once and uttered a sound rather like "Huh?" before they descended on him.  In less than a second he found himself trapped between a sea of giggles and pink and something digging into his back that felt suspiciously like a drinking fountain.

"Oh my god, Sora, you have to tell us _everything_."

"We had no idea really but—eeeeeee, it's so adorable!"

"I've been imagining the two of you together all night, seriously, it's SOOOOOO CUTE."

Hold the phone.  What was all this, now?  Adorable?  Cute?  Everything?  Sora looked from one set of purple eyeshadow to the next, blinking to perpetuate the churning wheels in his brain, trying to play catch up.  Two of who together?  What?

"Please, you've just GOT to tell us."

"How long have you been seeing him, anyway? Waaaaah, I'm sooooooo jealous."

Seeing... him?

The ton of bricks that landed on Sora's head, by all rights, should have not only knocked him to the ground, but crushed him to unrecognizable bits before he had to actually address any of this.

Riku. Oh. Right.

Sora opened and closed his mouth a few times.  This turned out to be beneficial as the girls, noting that he was going to speak, abruptly ceased in chattering and giggling.  Instead they leaned in closer, faces sparkling with body glitter, certain that his words would grant them all some great epiphany.

"I... we're not... I'm not _seeing_ him." Sora's voice stuttered at the same rate as his brain, which complained furiously at the early hour, the unlikeliness of this scenario, and the proximity of so much girly perfume.

"OOOOOOOOHHH, it was your FIRST KISS OH MY GOD!"

"That is SO SWEET!"

As though that was some sort of cue, the entire group once again squealed as a single entity. Sora was starting to feel dizzy. "It... it's not... like that..."

The press of girls leaned in again, far enough that Sora was all but sitting in the drinking fountain for trying to shrink away.  Wouldn't that be perfect if he had to walk around all morning with a wet ass? Icing on the cake.

The girl closest to his face (he figured she was their leader, what with the amount of glitter spread across her cheeks—it had to be some kind of tribal mark, placed there so the others knew who to follow) gave him a devious smile.  The group silenced once again so they could hear both the question and the answer.

"So, Sora... tell us. Is Riku a good kisser?"

"I bet he is!" One of the girls of lower-rank piped up out of turn, but all the others seemed to offer little gestures of agreement. Staring down Sora and waiting for his answer.

"I didn't..." Sora's voice caught, but his brain had mostly caught up, also, and he was sure now of what had to be said. He straightened up just a bit, as much as he could with the fountain half-underneath him, and raised his voice to something above a whisper. "I DIDN'T KISS HIM."

He realized as soon as he said it that his face was burning. His ears, probably, too.

The girl-entity was silent for a few slow, dead seconds, then it gave a collective, "Aww."

"He's in denial!"

"Oh you poor thing."

"That's so sad! Poor Riku, he must be so hurt..."

"Don't talk like that, Sora! You shouldn't worry about what people think."

"Yeah, it's not important, anyway. You just follow your heart!"

"That's RIGHT! Be yourself and follow your heart! Straight to Riku."

"STRAIGHT TO RIKU!" The entity cheered.

"Go find him!" The leader commanded. "Go forth and confess your undying love!"

The press of girls parted, again as if on cue, and Sora rolled away on the momentum it took to get off the drinking fountain. He took a few deep breaths—fresh air, god, fresh air—and heard their giggles following him down the hall.

"Good luck, Sora!"

"We left you something nice in your locker!"

"Be good to him, you hear me?"

Sora rolled through the crowds to his locker without really seeing or hearing anything.  He had a slight awareness that people were staring, people were pointing, people were shooting him jealous glares and sneering scowls, and they were _whispering_. None of it quite got through the fog hanging around him, though.  Those girls. He had told them. He _told_ them flat out, it wasn't what they thought. He hadn't kissed Riku. He _hadn't_.

And they didn't believe him.

He didn't arrive at his locker so much as crash into it, limp against the cold metal and giving his forehead a few cursory bangs against it. It wasn't _fair_. It wasn't even fucking _true_. It was all a big, giant, bone-crushing _mistake_.

The shift in air flow caused by opening his locker door made the sparkly heart-shaped confetti inside fly and settle around him in a terrifying red-and-pink cloud.

Sora remained frozen in place while it settled in his hair, on his shoulders, clung to his skin and scattered across the floor, and wondered if he could restart this game and try again. The world at large was in desperate need of save points and bonus lives.

Or, failing that, if he could go back to bed and resume his pillow-suffocation act.

No, no, no. Normal routine. Normal. Skates off, sneakers on. Jacket on the hook. Books out of his backpack and then others back in (shake the confetti off, first). Pick up the slip of folded, raggedy notebook paper off his chemistry text, and—

Wait.

There was a note in his locker with the remains of valentine confetti.  Sora's name was scrawled across the front in blocky pencil text that clearly did not belong to any self-respecting girl who thought that heart confetti was a wonderful surprise gift.

Sora picked it up, turned it over and sideways and upside down, a small, tight frown on his lips that never would have been there, ever, not at this school—had none of this happened. Had he not been half-knelt in front of his locker wondering if he was about to unfold a threat or an insult or an invitation to a fistfight out behind the football stands.  Or maybe just a swirly in the bathroom, if the note-writer felt lenient.  That sort of thing happened, right? When boys found out that another boy had intentions toward one of their own, right? That's what boys did. And no one, no one was going to believe him now, that it was all a mistake. Even with the bone-crushing giant wandering around.

He pulled the paper open, slowly. There were still spiral-holes on one edge from where it was ripped out of a notebook.

_Hey man,_

_Don't worry about it. I got your back. Tell Riku._

_—Rox_

Sora blew out a breath that made the paper flutter between his fingers, shoulders relaxing a bit. Not a threat of imminent pain or humiliation. In fact, it might have been solidarity of some kind. Tell Riku.

Riku.

Riku had started all of this. All of it. Riku could have denied it, could have turned and showed them the cut on Sora's hairline and explained everything. Riku could have ended it.

Sora slammed his locker shut, spinning the combo dial, and kicked in the corner that never quite closed. He shrugged on his backpack, pocketed the note, and broke his routine entirely by tromping down the crowded senior hallway in search of the boy who caused this mess.

 

 

Riku was hard to miss, height and broad shoulders and silver hair (and general gorgeousness, not that Sora necessarily took note of this first thing in the morning) aside. He was standing half-concealed by an open locker door with the word 'FAG' scrawled on it in bright orange capitals. Both boy and locker were given a wide berth by passing student traffic, aside from a few lingering females standing at a carefully measured distance with hands clasped, who stared and sighed like they were slowly deflating.

Riku was murmur-singing a little tune to himself, backpack between his feet and rummaging through the locker's insides.

"Uhm..." Sora could think of nothing better to announce his arrival.

"I'm your lover, I'm a zero—"

Sora cleared his throat and tried again.  "Riku?"

Riku stopped singing abruptly and leaned back just enough to look at him past the open door, taking in his presence and his posture and the confetti clinging to his person.  That same smirk— _teasing_ smirk—tugged up the corners of his mouth. "Morning, Sora." He gestured at the orange graffiti before returning to the depths of the locker and resuming his rummaging. "Like the new decor?"

Sora tugged at his backpack strap.

"I'm kind of disappointed, actually," Riku continued, lifting his own backpack and pushing the locker closed. "They should have made it pink and sparkly."

Sora tugged again and wondered if he should be bothered by how totally un-bothered his alleged other half was. Then Riku was looking at him, eyebrows were crawling up under his bangs.  He was a little too close, yet again, one hand up—

Oh crap, no.

"PDA no way!"

"Get a room!"

The voices behind him spun for a moment, but Riku didn't move any closer. Just reached out, two fingers, and plucked a tiny pink heart off of Sora's chin. "Looks like you got some new decor, too." Small smile, something like fondness as he leaned back into his own personal space. "How come _you_ get pink and sparkly?"

Sora was aware, aside from the voices and the stares all around, that he was breathing far too fast, and that his hands were clenched in fists around his shoulder straps.  There was still confetti dusted on his shoulders and shedding from his hair each time he moved. He stared down at his toes and couldn't help feeling like he'd suffered some kind of crushing defeat. "What... what the hell _is_ all this?" A wave of his hand to indicate that 'all this' was just that—all this. Everything.

When he looked back up, Riku wasn't smirking anymore. He jerked his head to the side, an 'over here' motion, silver hair dancing over his shoulders. Turned and leaned forward against the lockers so his backpack was propped on one knee while he pretended to adjust the contents and the safety pins clinging to the front.

Sora leaned against the locker next to him, a careful span of inches away, close enough to hear but not close enough that it looked like something else. Whatever that something could have been.

"I'm really sorry about this." Riku's voice was low and serious, spoken directly to the spine of a math textbook. "But there's nothing either of us can do about it now. The whole school knows. The students, the teachers, the coaches, the lunch ladies, the principal. The janitors probably know."

"But we didn't—!"

"I know that." Riku hissed, turning just enough to look at Sora out of one eye. Profile conversation. "But what really happened doesn't matter. It's over. This is your new life." He was scowling, Sora noticed. Scowling not at the lockers or the backpack or Sora or his math text, but at something that wasn't actually there.

"But..."

Riku turned. Face-to-face conversation now, backpack sliding onto his shoulders, pulling his hair out of the way. "You have two choices, Sora." Riku said the words with the grim certainty of a trigonometry teacher explaining logarithms. "You can fight it. You can kick and scream with every step while they keep beating you down harder and harder with each try."

Sora tilted his head, counting the inches between his eyes and Riku's. Well, yeah, he could fight it—that was what he figured the best option was. Fight. That made sense to him, on the primal male level. That was what boys did. "Or...?"

That smirk tugged at the corner of Riku's mouth again, but it wasn't teasing this time. More like bullied and determined. "Or, you can own it."

Sora scowled.  "You mean, resign myself to this?"

"No. Resignation is giving up. I'm talking about acceptance. _Owning_ it. Standing up to those girls in the lobby and telling them, 'Why yes, actually, I kissed Riku in the locker room, and by the way his tongue is _incredible_.'"

"WHAT?"

"You're blushing again."

"Wait—" Sora backtracked for a minute, shoving aside unwanted mental images of Riku and whatever kind of tongue he might have. "You saw that?"

"It was a golden opportunity to get past them before they spotted me." Riku had the grace to look away sheepishly. "Sorry."

"So what you're saying is..." Sora dropped his head back against the lockers with a metallic thud, staring up at the panel ceiling.  He considered counting the pinholes in the panel directly above him and immediately decided against it. "Instead of denying the mistake, I could admit to it instead. Just let everyone keep thinking that we're... like... _together_ or something."

"Basically. That's what I'm doing."

"WHAT."

"I let on that you're a bit shy. Hope that's not a problem." And it was back, that teasing smirk.

"Hey, I didn't even agree to this yet!" Sora shoved away from the lockers, spinning around and maybe—just maybe, that bone-crushing giant would stomp on his head. Or his mother would appear with a wooden spoon.

His face was definitely red, now.

"You're going to, though." Riku said it with all the confidence in the world and a light flick of his index finger on the tip of his own nose. "Right?"

"You're not—" Sora's mouth opened and closed a few times, thinking back to the note of retribution in his locker that turned out to not be a note of retribution at all. But the concept was there. "You're not worried about this at all?  Bullies, homophobes, etcetera?"

"You're on the hockey team." Riku rolled his eyes like this should have been patently obvious. And it should have been. That unspoken _I know you can take care of yourself—_ that felt kind of warm.

Despite the warmth, however, Sora narrowed his eyes in something like affront.  "I wasn't talking about _me_."

It was kind of funny, the way Riku stared at him and his eyebrows slowly crept up along his forehead.  Like he was just now taking Sora into full consideration while at the same time disbelieving that such a question would come up.  After a long enough time of offering Sora this expression, he didn't even have to say anything in explanation.  "So, with that established.  Anything further concerns or objections?"

Sora kicked his heels against each other.  Sora tugged on his backpack straps.  Sora was adept at dealing with many things and many situations with a fair amount of grace and pluck and a winning smile.  And, when necessary, the appropriate amount of violence.

This, clearly, was not one of them.

"Well? We have chemistry in two minutes."

Sora deflated, like the girls who followed Riku around and sighed, only his deflation was far more full and immediate. "Okay."

"Good." Riku promptly draped one arm around Sora's shoulders and propelled him down the hall, tight against his side and walking in step.

There was no routine, now. No normal, never, ever again. Sora wasn't sure, yet, if he was okay with that, but figured that all of this, everything—it was all going to go on without him whether he liked it or not. Whether he was sure or whether he was ready—or not.

And Riku—Riku's side was warm, and his arm didn't feel as heavy as it looked.

"Hey," Sora murmured when they were deep enough into the crowd that the catcalls were being drowned out. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the slip of notebook paper. "Someone left this in my locker."

Riku took it when they paused at an intersecting corridor, where the flow of traffic was bottlenecked and down to a shuffle. Read it over and stopped entirely.

"Riku." Sora chanced a look up at him and away from the toes of his sneakers, where his attention had been focused once they started walking. "Who's R-O-X?"

Above Sora, Riku's face dropped with a smack into his hand. "Oh, god."


	2. No Excuses

**2:  No Excuses**

 

Roxas was known to the majority of the student body by the name the principal occasionally spoke over the PA system in a tired and defeated kind of voice. He had long since given up on saying anything aside from the name. The name itself was synonymous with the words 'please come to the principal's office immediately'.

Someone had a black eye. Roxas. Shaving cream topping the school lunch's strawberry shortcake dessert. Roxas. Fire alarm. Roxas. Confiscated skateboard on a teacher's desk. Roxas. Vice-principal's car decorated with glow-in-the-dark bunches of helium-filled condoms. Roxas. Weed-killer-dead grass on the football field in the shape of a Nirvana smiley face, X's for eyes, tongue sticking out. Roxas.

The world had its share of great and brilliant student delinquent cliches. Roxas prided himself on being the best, and rewarded himself for his superior troublemaking skills by skipping physics to settle into a bathroom stall.  He lounged bent v-shaped on a toilet, cigarette in one hand and a dog-eared novel in the other, all-stars (the gray ones, today) crossed at the ankles over black sharpie scrawl declaring the ways in which some girl who graduated years ago gave amazing head.

Roxas called this a good day. At least, it _was—_ until the bathroom door banged open to admit the scuffling of entirely too many feet, and entirely too many cackling voices.

"Swirly time, faggot!"

"Hey, grab his legs—come on, little shit can't be _that_ strong!"

"Ow, fuck—"

"GET. OFF."

And it was _that_ voice. Roxas had intended to ignore the whole thing, as much as possible, anyway, until the kids tired of their fun and got the hell out of his bathroom. But _that_ voice—

Roxas knew Sora only by vague reputation. At least, it had been vague until sometime that morning, several blocks before he'd even arrived at the school building, when the new reputation was being tittered and growled in fakely-hushed voices.

_That guy—you know._ That _one. Yeah. He was making out with this kid in the locker room last night. That transfer student, Sora or whatever. No kidding, the entire hockey team saw them._

Reputation was something Roxas understood completely. He had one of his own, after all, and he knew damn well how to use it.

He made sure the stall door banged against the interior walls when he opened it. The loud and sudden sound gave him an extra beat of time in which to survey the scene completely, take in the spiky-haired victim of the bullies' intended swirly, caught in a headlock by one, elbow poised and ready to collide with the guy's chin. Take in the second guy who was already on the ground, swiping at a bloody nose and glaring daggers. Take in the third, fingers tangled in the fabric of Sora's shirt, one fist drawn back and ready, already sporting a rapidly bruising eye.

"Could you keep it down?" Roxas drawled the words out like he had all the time in the universe, hands splayed on either side of the stall door, paperback waving, cigarette spitting smoke into the air over his head. "I'm trying to read here, you know."

Silence for a moment, and then—

"Fuck off, Rox, we're entitled to a swirly."

"Why?"

The guy who had Sora by the shirt gave the kid a little shake. "He kissed a guy. In _our_ locker room."

"I'm aware of that." Roxas took a pull off the smoke, waving his book again for emphasis. "So explain something to me, then. How many bullies does it take to give one scrawny little gay-boy a swirly?"

"Uh..."

The room fell into a confused silence.  One of them actually started counting on his fingers.

"Stop that before your ears start smoking. The answer is: 'Clearly more than just the three of us, Mr. Roxas. We're sorry for disturbing you with our stupidity.' Now, repeat."

One of the guys mumbled something, but none of them moved. Roxas sighed through his teeth and turned just enough to fling the smoldering cigarette butt into the toilet.

"I'll make this easy for you: Get. The fuck. OUT."

The three guys grumbled. The three guys dropped Sora—still spitting mad and spoiling for another punch—back onto the floor. The three guys shuffled out with muttered curses on their lips.

"Finally.  Fucking dumbasses." Roxas waited until the door clicked shut before stretching his arms over his head, slow yawn and then back down, leaning against the panel between the stall doors and examining the boy on his bathroom floor. The new boy with his shiny new reputation.

"You got a few nice hits in."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Little blood on your lip, there."

Sora pushed himself up off the floor, over to a sink and scowled at his own reflection, turned the water on and wet a paper towel to attend the small split. He looked back at Roxas through the mirror. "You're the one who left the note in my locker."

"Yeah. I had to wait for the girls to finish dumping a bucket of confetti through the vents."

Sora groaned and dropped his head onto his arms, folded across the porcelain.

"They'll get over it." Roxas moved to the sink next to him, noting that the faucet was still running and was now soaking the top of Sora's head. Roxas shrugged and turned to the mirror, examining his carefully constructed hairstyle. Vanity had its place. "Sooner or later. Well, later, mostly, but they will."

"What's this about you 'having my back' then?" Sora asked the sink drain.

"What, you have a posse?" Roxas looked over to study the boy slumped over the sink, noting the pager clipped to a belt-loop on his shorts (kid had balls, wearing shorts in November.)  He set his book down on the edge of the sink and swiped the little device up, Sora being none the wiser.  When no reply to his question was forthcoming, he again clarified. "Friends, Sora. Who are your friends?"

Silence.

Roxas shrugged and dug a pen out of his pocket, copying the pager's number down onto the heel of his palm before replacing it on Sora's belt loop, capping the pen with an echoing _pop_.  "That's what I thought."

Sora lifted his head, water dripping down his face, and opened his mouth like he had something to say to that, but then his gaze dropped from its critically blue examination of Roxas to the book sitting on the sink. "What—"

Roxas snatched it up instantly and shoved it into his back pocket. "Not a word, Sky-boy."

The PA chose that moment to buzz and sputter with static, followed by the familiar, exhausted voice of the principal. "Roxas." The word echoed electrically for a moment and then the speaker hissed into silence.

"Aww, he must miss me." Roxas offered Sora a broad grin, reaching out to swipe one hand across the top of his head and spray droplets of water across them, the sink and the green-tiled floor. He automatically retrieved his skateboard from the stall he'd been lounging in before strolling away.  "Catch you around."

" _Harlequin?_ "

He paused at the door, hard glance over his shoulder at Sora, still slumped over the sink and dripping. "I have this sick fascination with things that are fake, okay?"

"Uhm... sorry?"

"Don't be." Roxas smirked, pulled the door open, waved one hand backwards in farewell and dismissal. "It keeps me coming back to school every day."

 

 

Sora figured the rest of the day could have gone worse.  What constituted 'worse', however, was up for debate.

After nearly being dragged in for that previously-feared Swirly of Retribution, he'd then been forced to sit behind Riku for the entirety of English, staring at the back of his perfectly-silver head.  Every so often, when he looked up from the literature text they were supposed to be reading, he caught sight of a single green eye staring back at him.

Which was nothing, really, compared to the _thirty pairs_ of eyes that remained steadily trained on both of them throughout the period.

At one point, Riku had leaned back to stretch—supposedly, but his elbow landed on Sora's desk and surreptitiously pushed a tightly-folded note underneath his book cover.  Sora rolled his eyes and smushed his face into the pages of his book for a while over that lousy act.  Eventually, though, he unfolded the paper to see whatever it was Riku thought was so important that it deserved such an un-smooth backwards pass.

_Pretend this note says something embarrassing._

_Trust me, it'll be hilarious._

Then, several rows down and hidden in a fold, like an afterthought in tiny blocked out letters:

_You busy tonight?_

There was no need to pretend.  Sora felt his ears burning and crumpled the note in his fist, hastily shoving it into a pocket before the teacher noticed and asked one of those humiliating teacher-questions like, 'Sora, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?'

'Why yes, actually, I've just been asked out on a date by the guy pretending to be my boyfriend.  Do you think I should accept?'

He was pretty sure his book had a Sora-shaped face imprint on the center pages by the end of class.

 

 

Lunch period was hell.  Plain and simple.  In class, there was structure and discipline, but at lunch, there were no teachers to instill order, no desks or books to hide behind.  Sora was a sitting duck—possibly a yellow rubber one, the kind that squeaks when you squeeze it.

And that was just all levels of wrong.

After the third pinch, he adjusted the straps of his backpack until it hung low enough to cover his ass.  After the third flock of girls cornered him wanting all the juicy details of his alleged relationship, he started ducking and hugging the walls to get down the hall.  Twice he dodged into a bathroom to escape, and once he'd actually crawled underneath the cafeteria tables to get away from the same group of swirly-oriented bullies who had caught him earlier.  Their number had grown to five.

He figured he could still take 'em.  Just not in this unholy mess.

Somewhere in the courtyard while making a mad dash from tree to tree, he was caught.  He squeaked and yelled and squirmed for roughly ten seconds before realizing that the hand around his elbow had two hemp bracelets around the wrist, and was attached to an arm covered in thermal and t-shirt and safety pins, which, in turn, was attached to Riku.  Sora had stumbled across his lunch spot.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Sora sank to the ground and curled up around his knees, and at that point his strained and abused backpack gave in, the straps slid out of the buckles and it sadly tumbled away.  He failed to notice, face pressed against the worn jean fabric covering his knees.  If no one could see his face, maybe no one would look at him.

"I hate this."  He realized—too late, yet again, and how that always happened was beyond him—that his voice was shaking.

"I know."  Riku should have been teasing him, Sora figured, should have been smirking that smirk at him, but his voice was quiet and vague.  His palm settled on the center of Sora's back, right between his shoulderblades, and it wasn't possessive like the arm around him that morning had been—that was a 'look at me and this hot young thing I'm with' gesture, something to give people something to talk about.  This was different.  The hand just stayed there.  Just existing warmly there.  "It gets better.  Sora.  I promise."

"That doesn't help NOW."

Riku's hand slid up to his shoulder and pulled him back, off his knees and up to face him.  "Here."

And then, there was half of a hero sandwich under his nose.  And then, Sora was abruptly transported somewhere heavenward, adoration pasted on his face, taking the food in his hands.  He'd eaten halfway through it before realizing that Riku was still sitting there, watching him silently, and finally swallowed his bite so he could look over, sunbeam smile on his face.  "Thanks."

"Oh, _there_ it is."

"There what is?"  Sora asked around a mouthful of food.

"Your smile."  Riku smirked a little, more of that tease to it this time.  "I was starting to think it had run away."

Sora paused chewing and just stared at him for a minute, brain churning through concepts like inevitability and ownership (and whether that line was cheesy because it was cheesy or just cheesy because it was sincere).  And if Riku moved like he was going to shift a little closer, or if his hand reached up like it was going to brush against Sora's cheek, only for both movements to fail and recoil just before the other boy stood and shrugged on his backpack, Sora figured it had something to do with one of those two things.

"Have to get to the gym," Riku said by way of explanation, dropping a plastic-wrapped cookie in Sora's lap.  "I'll see you."  _You'll be fine_ , unspoken and hanging in the air.

"Riku."

He paused, turned slightly to look back down.  More than a profile—probably about three-quarters, hair dangling silver-dark in the background.  "Yeah?"

"I'm not."  Sora said, and then backtracked because really, it didn't make any sense.  He wasn't sure why he was saying it to begin with—it was Roxas, he decided, and something about not having any friends.  "I mean, I'm not busy.  You know.  Uh."  He paused and almost lost his voice when something very, very small and hesitant appeared on Riku's face.  Just a faint trace.  It looked like a smile, maybe.  "So.  Yeah.  Meet me after practice?"

"Sure."  That faint thing remained there, even when his eyes started to gleam the way they did when he smirked.  _That_ smirk.  Riku reached up and tapped the corner of his own mouth.  "You got something right there."

When Sora finally rid his face of whatever food had been clinging to it, Riku was halfway across the courtyard, the safety pins on his backpack winking merrily back at him.

 

 

The rest of the day went moderately smoother.  Sora was beginning to learn how to navigate the halls with the express purpose of avoiding anyone with the intent of stopping him for whatever unpleasant reason.  He figured it had something to do with evolution and survival instincts.  Primal living.

Ten minutes after the last bell, skates in hand and ready for practice, he figured he was home free.  At least, he figured as much until something large and heavy collided with his left shoulder and sent him crashing into a row of lockers.

Instantly afterwards, a hand grabbed that same shoulder and hauled him upright.  "Sorry, over-exuberance."  Roxas clapped him on the back in something like an apology, limp flannel hanging over one shoulder and a skateboard tucked under the other arm.

Sora rubbed his shoulder.

"You owe me one."

"Huh?"

"You—"  Roxas indicated Sora's chest with a brightly-wrapped sucker, "and your spiky-headed ass—owe _me—_ "  Tapping himself on the collarbone with the candy, "—one.  Favor.  You get me?"

"Okay..."  Sora drew the word out with a small frown at the self-satisfied kid in front of him.  "What for?"

"You know those guys you punched out in the bathroom?"

Sora recalled them in vivid detail.  His fist had been intimately acquainted with several areas on their collective persons.  "Uh, yeah."

Roxas shrugged a little and stepped back, hands hooking in his pockets.  "Well, they went to the nurse and wouldn't tell who hit them.  The principal kind of made the assumption that it was me.  And I kind of let him."

Sora stared.  Just—let his mouth hang open and _stared_ , because he'd been wondering when he was finally going to be called in for punishment and just what kinds of words the principal was going to have for him regarding their agreement and that sort of behavior.  And what kind of words his mom would have for him when she called later—which she would.

But what really got him was that Roxas had no business taking the fall for him.  So what he said in a cracking stutter that reminded him more of being thirteen and struggling with puberty all over again, was:  "Th—thanks."

Roxas shifted uncomfortably on his heels and abruptly started walking down the hall, tugging Sora along by the backpack.  "Yeah, well, don't expect me to cover for your ass all the time.  Come on or you'll be late for practice."

They fell into step easily, navigating the halls, and although there were still swarms of students making their way out the main doors or to the gym or the fields, no one did more than give Sora a look.  Scathing, sometimes, but nothing more.

"Big news doesn't always stay that way, you know?"  Roxas made the comment sagely, discomfort vanishing into memory, popping the violet sucker in his mouth.  "It's like I was saying, about things that are fake.  There are plenty of kids in our graduating class who are gay—I mean, seriously, go visit the drama club sometime.  Stereotypical but true.  It's really no big deal.  Everyone knows that."

Sora knocked his knee against the skates dangling from his hand, just to make them rattle.  The noise was moderately satisfying.  "Then why are they _making_ it a big deal?"

"Because they're supposed to."  Roxas clicked his teeth against the stick in his mouth, regarding Sora sideways.  "Being gay in and of itself is no big deal, but when it becomes a public spectacle—for instance, when you're outed to the entire school in a crowded hallway, or when you get caught kissing in the locker room—that's something else.  People don't react because it matters, they react because that's what's supposed to happen."

Sora watched him across his shoulder, pushing open one of the heavy glass-paned doors leading outside.  "It's fake, right?"

"Exactly."

Roxas dropped his skateboard onto the sidewalk and rolled along silently at his side, swerving a little as he shrugged his flannel back on.  This kid, Sora thought—he had this way of talking and moving like he existed outside the sphere of teenage society.  Like he had already transcended it without ever having to graduate and leave or even test out with a GED and a middle finger for the entire educational institution.  Sora always thought something like that would look cool on a person.  Because, really, who didn't want to get this school shit the fuck over with and get on with life?

On Roxas, though, it didn't look cool.  It looked tiring and vaguely disenchanted.

A few feet along the sidewalk, Sora took a quick look around to ensure that the few people in the area were out of earshot, then came to a halt abruptly and grabbed his elbow.  Roxas dropped one foot flat on the ground and jerked his head back, sucker stick pursed between his lips and eyebrows raised.

"Listen."  Sora opened his mouth and then shook his head.  "No, really, _listen_.  We weren't kissing, okay?"

Silence.  Roxas opened and closed his mouth, purple sucker bobbing behind his lips.  Then finally, " _What?_ "

"I just got out of a hockey match.  There was a cut on my forehead.  Riku was checking it, and from behind, it looked like..."  Sora trailed off and shrugged, kicking one toe at the pavement.  "You know."

Roxas gaped at him, and barely caught the sucker before it fell out of his mouth.  "You're serious."

"Yes."

"Shit."  Roxas stepped off the skateboard and flipped it up with one foot, into his hand.  He stared down at the dirty wheels for a moment like they might hold the answers to all the questions in the universe.  Sora thought they might, if germs could talk.  "Okay, look, I know what you're thinking, Sora," he said at length, having come to whatever conclusion the wheels might have provided.  "You figure this could all have been cleared up easily, right?  It could have been explained away and none of this would ever have happened."

Sora knocked against the skates with his knee again.  "Yeah, sorta."

"Well, stop thinking that."  Roxas shoved the sucker back in his mouth and dropped the skateboard back into place, almost violently.  "Yeah, maybe it could have been fixed.  Maybe you could have shown those guys in the locker room that it was all a mistake.  Maybe you could have saved yourself all this bullshit."  He punched Sora in the shoulder to get his full attention, something more like a love-slap than the kind of punches thrown in the bathroom earlier that day.  "Maybe you could have, okay?  If it had been _anyone_ but Riku."

Sora felt the rollerblades slipping out of his grip and tightened his fist around the laces.  His ears were starting to burn.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

Roxas rolled his eyes, one heel back on the skateboard and looking aside in a combination of exasperation and dismissal.  "God, I am really tired of clarifying shit for people today.  Think about it, okay?"

"Right."  Sora scowled just slightly—because he'd been thinking all day, about everything, and now here was yet something else to add to the growing mental pile of facts to sift through.  He needed to hire a mental secretary.

Roxas leaned over to push off, half a second from skating away, then abruptly straightened to look back and blinked at Sora for a moment.  His face split into a lopsided smirk.  "You _like_ him."

The heat across Sora's cheeks was betraying him again.  He was going to drag it to federal court to be tried for treason.

Roxas chuckled.  "Whatever, Sky-boy, I'm outta here.  Later."

 

 

Realization hit Sora for the second time that day in the form of two defenders slamming him into the ground in the middle of a scrimmage.  The thing was, he could have dodged them easily, but several different things had chosen that moment to merge together and click into place in his brain.

And he wondered, really wondered for the first time since the night before, if Riku really _had_ known the inevitability of The End.

Sora stayed on his back on the sun-warmed asphalt for a while, staring up at the endlessly blue sky.

 

 

Riku was being selfish.  He was fully aware of this fact.

He didn't wait in the locker room—that would have been too obvious, would have been asking for it, really.  He sat outside in the sun instead, knees bent and lounging against the chain link fence surrounding the tennis courts.  The grass was cool, the wind was low, and he could just see the spread of pavement where the hockey team was finishing their drills.  Sora was a blur of black and red on the court.

Until yesterday, he mostly knew Sora by watching him from a distance.  All limbs and energy and fluorescent smiles.  Sora attracted attention naturally, like atoms with all those electrons buzzing around.  He was a nucleus.  The core of neon, maybe, or mercury.

Riku mentally flipped through the periodic table to figure out which elements would chemically bond with one or the other of those, that he might metaphorically associate himself with it.  He wondered if elements ever took advantage of each other.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.  Justifiable selfishness was still selfishness.  If Sora were ever to ask, he wouldn't deny it.  He told himself that was enough.

Sora found him there, with his head tilted back and eyes closed with hair hanging across his nose.  The breeze had blown it there, but it was too warm and comfortable in his patch of grass and fence to bother moving.  When he opened his eyes and looked up at a small smile and sun-golden brown hair he hoped—thought maybe he would, for a minute—that Sora might reach down and brush it away, fingertips trailing over his skin.  Selfishly, he hoped.

"So, what now?"  Sora dropped his skates and backpack on the ground next to him, leaning back against the fence.

And _god_.

Sora was a study in tan and blue and chocolate and someone who hadn't quite caught up to the fact that it was, in fact, the 90s and furthermore that his legs were going to freeze if he kept wearing shorts through the winter.  How he got away with it, Riku guessed, might have something to do with his overall size and level of cuteness and possibly that Sora really just did not have any sense for these kinds of things.

And something about all of that just made him _right_.  Hell, if he wanted to wear Hypercolor, he could wear it for all Riku cared.  It was kind of cute.

No, to hell with that.  It was fucking _adorable_.

"Study date."  Riku smirked and admired the way Sora shied at that statement.  "I'll walk you home."

Riku pushed the hair back behind his ear and stood up, waiting for Sora to get his pack settled before starting the walk across campus, towards the dorms.

Sora was quiet for most of the way across the parking lot, watching the ground under his feet and occasionally screwing up his face in concentration.  Had something on his mind, probably something he wanted to voice.  Riku waited patiently while the something grew and wriggled around and chomped on Sora's thoughts, until they crossed the football field and stepped onto the sidewalk leading up the street.

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Riku murmured, and it was kind of pathetic considering all the time he'd had to come up with something to say, but it was the least invasive of his options.

And in response Sora just—deflated, like he had in the hallway that morning, dropping forward a bit, arms limp at his sides.  "It's... yeah.  I think I'm working it out, though."

"That's good."

"Riku."  Sora was staring up at him, blue eyes wide and kind of uncertain, like he expected to find truth by looking hard enough.  Maybe it was hidden in Riku's eyebrows.  "This happened to you before, right?"

Something tightened somewhere in Riku's stomach, a little ball of emotion that had been bouncing around in there all day—he'd figured it out.  But more importantly, he had _bothered_ to figure it out.  That was a modest score in his favor.  "That obvious, huh?"

"Well, sorta.  I mean, Roxas said—"

"Oh, here we go."  Riku rolled his eyes heavenward and the little ball scrambled to hide somewhere behind his spleen.

Sora blinked in confusion and he'd never seen anything quite that adorable.  Except maybe the last time he'd done the same thing.  "What?"

"Nothing.  Never mind.  What did Roxas say?"  Riku bumped shoulders with him to keep them moving.

"He said that—well, that maybe we could have explained that we weren't actually kissing, only we couldn't because it was _you_."

Riku considered this, counting three cracks in the sidewalk before nodding just enough.  "He's got a point."  That was the entire point, actually, that was the focal point and the beginning point of all of this and leave it to Roxas to bring it to light.  Selfish, Riku, and now even _he_ knows it.

Sora hissed out a breath through his teeth, kicking the sidewalk as he walked. "Why does everyone think you're gay?"

"I figure mostly because I am."

They both stopped walking at the same time and Riku took that moment to close his eyes, wrap his hands around his backpack straps and take a deep breath.  Sora would be looking at him, staring up with that same truth-seeking expression from before, the clockwork in his brain turning on overtime.  "Look, I'm not going to jump you or anything."  _Only if you let me,_ the more shameless half of his mind supplied, but Riku staunchly ignored it.  "Whatever you want this to be with us, that's fine.  This is for your benefit, to make all the teasing a little more bearable.  They think twice when they see us together, right?"  Selfish bastard, Riku.

When he opened his eyes, Sora was nodding a little.  "Yeah, I guess so."

"I bet they didn't bother you at all when you were talking to Roxas."  Riku tried to keep the tightness out of his voice.  He really, really tried but Sora brought so much to the surface, just by virtue of presence.

"Well—yeah, come to think of it."  He frowned, and Riku mentally added that to the list of Top Ten Most Adorable Sora Expressions.  "What's your deal with Roxas, anyway?"

Riku decided that was a good time to resume walking, and counted it as a small victory when Sora fell back into step beside him.  Life was going fairly well today.  It would be going infinitely better if _Roxas_ didn't keep crossing the ropes into his lane.  Without even being physically present—that was some kind of accomplishment of metaphysics, that or Riku needed to stop with the metaphors.  "It's nothing.  He just lives to make bad situations worse, that's all."

Another long stretch of silence, a block and a half in length until the concrete steps leading up to the dormitory.  It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but Sora spent it the same way as before, eyebrows drawn into a tense line, little white teeth chewing on his lip.  If he stared at those teeth too long he could almost taste them.

Riku stopped at the first step.  "I think I'll go home."

"What?"  Sora's head shot up from his steady contemplation of the ground, suddenly aware and searching back through the conversation to determine where it had gone wrong, what he'd said to make Riku want to leave.  The entire thought process plain on his face.

"Because you're exhausted and you've got a load of things on your mind that you need to work through.  I'd just be here complicating it."  _And if you keep giving me looks like that when we're alone in your room I might coax you into doing something you don't want to yet._   'Yet' being the operative word.  Riku stepped back, then forward, shuffled on his feet, that little ball of fluff doing a dance in his stomach again.  "Have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He thought he might be smiling—thought he might have earlier that day, too, thought he might have seen too much of that selfish hope reflecting off of Sora.  Riku stepped forward again, reaching out and settling his hand on Sora's head, premise that he was inspecting that cut again.  Felt it under his fingers, scabbing over—felt Sora's hair, rough and sticky with sweat, over his skin.  Half a dozen things to say piled on top of each other in his mouth, tumbling into a heap behind his teeth, that little fuzzy ball buzzing with each consecutive crash.

_I wish I had kissed you._

"Get some rest."  Selfish, the way he let his fingers trail down Sora's cheek, just the barest brush before pulling away, stuffing his hands in his pockets to subdue any other rebellions.  Sora's eyes were too wide, the smile spreading across his face too bright, like looking into the sun.  Riku swallowed to get his throat to work.  "See you tomorrow."

Only after the front door swung shut behind Sora did he realize that he'd missed his ride, the bus, and essentially any opportunity to transport himself across the two miles home via any manner aside from by foot.  
  
Riku was fine with walking, as he figured he was floating about a foot off the ground.

 

 

The curtains by the front window in the common area were swaying suspiciously, and the students inside were sitting around the television or their dinner or their homework a little too stiffly, some of the girls tittering to each other a little too demurely.  Sora paused in the foyer and surveyed this, remembering what Roxas had said.

_Fake._

He almost, _almost_ dragged it up, the steel will to walk straight into the middle of them all and say, 'Yes, that's right, Riku walked me home.  You all enjoy the show?'

He went up the stairs instead, shut himself in his room and listened to the clatter of his skates dropping onto the tiled floor.  Ownership, Riku had said.  Fake, Roxas had said.  The two seemed to crowd together in his mind, take up residence and move in a battered secondhand couch and a rabbit-eared television.  They had popcorn, and no intention of leaving until the movie marathon was over.

And that wasn't even fair, because what he _needed_ was a secretary.  Sora ignored them in favor of a hot pot of ramen and his homework.

By the time night was in full swing and trigonometry had advanced beyond tragically boring to wholly impossible, Sora had realized two things:

1.  The skin on his forehead and cheek where Riku had touched him just _would not stop tingling_.  Riku must have had some kind of chemical on his hands or something.  It was probably slowly eating through his skin.

2.  He would have to ask the dorm mother if she could have the tree outside of his window pruned.  The wind kept making the branches tap against the glass.

_Tap tap tap._

Sora closed his math book and dropped it into a heap by his backpack, next to the English text with his face-print in the center and his spiral-bound government notes.  Which mostly contained, in fact, scribbles of little cartoon dogs playing hockey, but Sora figured what his teachers didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

_Tap tap.  Tap tap._

He started on the essay questions for economics, but every time he got more than a sentence written down that damn tree would start again.  He really had to talk to the dorm mother about that.

_Tap.  Taptaptaptap._

Gross national product.  Gross national product.  That little smile on Riku's face.  No, no, no.  Gross national product.  That stupid fucking tree.

_BUZZ._

Sora paused halfway through writing something that may or may not have involved economics in some way—because the tree tapping had given way to mysterious buzzing, which seemed to be emitting from somewhere in the vicinity of his government notes.

Oh, right.  Pager.

He dug the little device out of his pile of homework--expecting, perhaps, a callback number from his mom or Kairi's trademark 3722145.  'Shizzle' somehow translating into girl-pager-speak as 'OH MY GOD I have to tell you something RIGHT NOW call me.'  Or so he figured.  He didn't question Kairi on things of that nature.

"BOO," the pager screen said.

"Huh," Sora murmured.

_Shave and a haircut, two bits,_ the tree tapped.

He was pretty sure that trees didn't know knocking jingles, and furthermore he didn't recall giving his pager number to that particular oak.

Slowly, he leaned across his desk, past the lamp, past the edge of the bunkbeds hiding his view of the window.  And, perfectly framed by the glass, Roxas grinned and waved hello.

Sora straightened and sat back in his chair, back where he could no longer see Roxas sitting in the tree outside in his window.  Sora rubbed his forehead with one hand.  Sora was pretty sure he didn't want to contemplate exactly _why_ Roxas was sitting in the tree outside his window.

Eventually, though, there was nothing to do aside from get up, open the window and ask.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Calling in a favor."  Roxas didn't bother with anything else aside from launching himself through the now-open window, grunting and dropping his backpack to the floor--stuffed near to bursting with who knows what, skateboard carefully attached with a criss-cross of bungee cords.  "You know I've been out there for an hour, right?"

"I thought you were a tree."

"Yeah, well, this tree is fucking freezing."  Roxas was taking stock of the room, green flannel drawn tight around himself, eyes lighting on the bunkbeds.  "Roommate?"

"No.  I was the last to sign up, so I didn't get assigned one."  Sora had a sinking suspicion of where this was going.  "What favor?"

Roxas was examining the posters on the wall.  Nudging his discarded homework with a toe.  Peering inside the lukewarm hot pot.  "You gonna eat this?"

" _What favor?_ "

He looked all the way around the room one last time before his eyes landed on Sora, finally, hands shoving straight into his pockets.  Still shivering.  "I need a place to crash."

"How'd you find my room?"

There was half a smirk on his face.  "Hypothetically, I might have a friend who works in the school office.  And hypothetically, she might have snuck me a copy of the room assignments."

"Why here?"

The smirk vanished.  Roxas's eyes narrowed to electric blue slits.  "Don't make me say it."

Sora folded his arms and stared him down.

"Sora."

"You can't stay here, you'll get me in trouble, and you know I'm having enough of that already."

Roxas looked like he wanted to punch something.  His hands were curled up to do it.  "I have nowhere else to go, okay?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Sora rubbed a hand through his hair.  The things that had settled in his head looked up from their movie marathon long enough to see what he would do.  He figured, after a moment, watching Roxas glaring into the middle-space between himself and the Batman poster on the wall, that there were only two other people in the world who knew the truth.  What was real, and what was fake.

"Top bunk."  Sora motioned vaguely at it and nodded at the door to the side, next to the wardrobes.  "Bathroom's there."

"Private?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if I use your shower?"

"Knock yourself out."  Sora slid back into his chair, back to his homework and unfortunately not back into the frame of mind to actually _do_ it.  Roxas was pulling clothes and other things out of his backpack, making a little bundle in his arms before walking back to the door Sora pointed out.  Still frowning, but relaxed out of that fight-or-flight stance.

He paused just briefly, passing by the desk, a bare glance before continuing on.  "Thanks, man."  Low and fast, almost like it wasn't meant to be heard.

Roxas disappeared into the bathroom, and Sora laid his head on his desk, cheek on his unfinished homework, watching how the letters crawled across the page.  "No problem."


	3. Cherub Rock

**3:  Cherub Rock**

 

He hid Roxas in the wardrobe when the RA's made the rounds for lights out, stuffed into the minuscule space along with his backpack and skateboard.  Afterwards, when the room was dark and it was quiet enough to hear the year's last round of crickets singing outside, Sora stared up at the mattress above him.  Noted how it was occupied for the first time, how the edges of a blanket trailed down over the side and how the underside bulged a bit between the slats down along the center.  He lifted one foot to nudge at one of the larger bulges.  "Hey."

Rustling of blankets as Roxas rolled over, shifting for comfort.  "Yeah."

"What happened?"

Silence for several heartbeats, and Sora started to think maybe he shouldn't have asked, or maybe Roxas just wasn't going to answer.  But then he laughed—small chuckle in the dark.  "College dorms have this thing called a 'minor policy'."

Sora had a few guesses as to what that might entail—something about occupancy and harboring and... whatever.  The high school dorm had a 'pet policy' with similar terminology and a laundry list of disciplinary measures attached to it.  Roxas didn't strike him as the pet type, though.  "What were you doing in the college dorms?"

"Unauthorized extended visitation."

Sora rolled his eyes at the general space above himself, nudging the mattress with his toes again—Roxas wasn't very good at answering direct questions with direct answers.  Unless, maybe, they were specific.  "So, you were living there with someone without permission and you got caught."

"Yeah."

'Yes or no' appeared to be effective.  Sora nodded to himself, considering both this and the situation that was being outlined.  "And they kicked you out."

"Yeah."

"So you came here, to live in _my_ dorm without permission instead?"

"Basically."

Sora blew out a breath at the air above him, watching the lock of hair over his nose wriggle in the sudden breeze.  Wondered which question to ask next.  "What about your parents?"

Another silence, then the shift of the mattress as Roxas turned over again, voice muffled towards the wall.  "Don't worry about it."

That, clearly, was the wrong question.  Sora blew out another breath and tried again.  "Who was it you were staying with?"

Span of heartbeats and another quiet shift somewhere above.  "Someone."

" _Someone_ someone or just someone?"

Soft sound, not even a chuckle, just a sort of hum.  "Hypothetically?  _Someone_."

Sora contemplated Roxas and his hypotheticals for a moment, studying the alternating stripes of gold wood and blue mattress above him.  Something was forming in his mind—in between the movie marathon commercials.  He wasn't quite sure what it was yet.  "Roxas?"

"Hm?"

"I figure you're real."

And there was the laugh—full and immediate, catching against the edge of a pillow.  "That's good to know."

"I thought so."

"Go to sleep, dork."

 

 

The dorm bathrooms were all thoughtfully outfitted with double sinks.  Which turned out to be fortunate, as Roxas devoted no less than two hours each morning to his hair.  Sora didn't even stir until halfway through the second hour, and when he did finally stumble in he still had his own sink to dunk his head in, despite the extreme affectation of vanity occurring at the other sink.

This was where the amenability of sharing a living space with Roxas ended.

He snored, for one.  Not a bulldozer snore—that, at least, would have warranted Sora kicking his mattress at least a few times during the night—no, a soft, kitten-purr snore that was just loud enough to be annoying.  The space on the floor where his backpack had sat so innocently the night before had somehow become an impossibly massive pile of clothing of questionable cleanliness.  His towel from the shower he took the night before was still on the bathroom floor.  Still.  He was practically standing on it.

He gargled far too loudly for six-thirty in the morning.

Sora explained to him, very carefully, while Roxas was climbing out the window, that he would have to find someplace else to stay.  That sooner or later someone was going to notice all this tree-to-window climbing business, or that there was more than one boy's worth of mess in his dorm room.  He explained, while carefully tossing Roxas's backpack and skateboard down to him.

He wasn't sure if the explanation was good enough, though, as all he got in response was a flash of a smirk before Roxas skated out of sight.

 

 

The dorm bathrooms were all thoughtfully outfitted with double sinks.  Which turned out to be unfortunate, as Sora spent the first five minutes of the morning trying to drown himself in one of them.  Then proceeded to shake the water out of his hair like a wet dog.  Had there been only one sink, Roxas could have happily shut the kid outside until the gel had set, rather than finding himself inexplicably dripping wet with only ten minutes to fix the damage done to his hair.

There had to be a law against that kind of abuse.  Somewhere.

Sora talked in his sleep.  At one point, in the dead of night he had said quite plainly and loudly, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" before drifting back into quiet slumber.  It took Roxas a half an hour to uncurl from the corner of the bed he had retreated into at the outburst.  Sora had really, annoyingly bright posters on his walls.  He kept the room too warm.  Roxas had found at least four dirty socks on the top bunk that had just been tossed there and forgotten at some point.

He gargled far too loudly for six-thirty in the morning.

Sora was saying something while he was climbing down the tree, about getting in trouble and the need for Roxas to find some other place to stay.  But Roxas figured, the fact was, Sora had a hot pot.  And ramen.  Lots of it.  And Roxas had never, ever experienced this sheer level of annoyance at sharing a space with a second person.  It was addictive.

He didn't think he could explain that to Sora, so he settled for a sidelong smirk before skating off to school.  He figured the paperwork wouldn't be too difficult.

 

 

Wednesday—the second day after the Locker Room Incident (Sora capitalized it in his head—it did signify The End, after all)—was in a running competition to kick off with the same general level of crushing realization and awkwardness as Tuesday had.  Only this time, the girl-entity cornered him against a vending machine.  Sora appreciated the significant reduction in the possibility of getting wet in embarrassing locations, but otherwise it wasn't much of an improvement.

"Soooora, I heard Riku walked you home last night!"

"Ooooooh, did you hold hands?"

"Did you invite him up to your room?"

The sparkle-encrusted entity squealed as one.

"Excuse me, I'd like to get some Skittles, here."  (That was not one of the entity, but an annoyed voice somewhere behind them.)

Sora shifted on the wheels of his skates, trying to make sure the pink didn't get close enough to touch him.  It might be infectious.  "Um... we... well..."

"Eeeee, he's blushing!"

The entity cooed and pressed closer.  "Tell us, Sora, tell us!"

"Hello?  Skittles?"

The leader, again in the center of the group, was practically nose-to-nose with him.  "Well?"

"We—uh."  Sora balked—what was it Riku had said to tell them?  Tell them he had a fantastic tongue?  Wait... okay, don't think about that anymore.  "He just... walked me home.  That's all."

The entity was silent for a moment, pondering this, then:

"Aww!"

"Oh, you really _are_ shy!"

"I bet Riku is taking things slow just for you!  That's SOOOOOOOO SWEET!"

Chattering animatedly amongst each other, the entity parted to let him go about his business.  Sora skated away (past an unfortunate-looking guy cautiously attempting to find a route to the vending machine without coming in contact with pink or glitter), considering this.  Apparently, if you bribed the girl-entity with a little tidbit of information to coo over, they would let you go.  He filed this theory away for safekeeping, behind the mental couch where the movie marathon was still running.

He didn't remember until he opened his locker that it was still full of confetti—and thus, Sora spent another morning shedding pink and red hearts everywhere he went.  Wednesday was accomplishing its goal rather well.

 

 

Sora was just getting used to being under the collective student body microscope, but Riku had two years of practice.  And while that still didn't get him out of every instance of female intervention, thinly-veiled harassment, unwanted commentary or the occasional threat of physical harm (some guys just would not let it go), it did afford him his lunch spot—his own personal bubble.  He sat there, and everyone else stayed away.  There were a number of excellent reasons for this, but Riku wasn't one to boast.

He liked his lunch spot.  There was a small tree, just large enough to provide enough shade at midday for one person—or, alternatively, two people sitting fairly close together.  There was a wood-slat fence to lean back against.  The grass was thick and soft.  And there were ladybugs.

Riku was enjoying the company of two of these insects, both of whom were examining the safety pins on the hem of his shirt sleeve.  He himself had the early stages of a hemp necklace pinned to the knee of his jeans—when Sora arrived.

He _arrived_ in much the same way as the day before—at a dead run, backpack holding onto him for dear life, skidding to a halt to collapse, flushed and panting, at the base of the little tree.

(Riku decided the 'flushed and panting' look was good on him.  But he was getting sidetracked.)

"Are you running from someone, or just running so you don't _have_ to run from someone?"  Riku checked on his ladybugs, assuring they hadn't been disturbed by the boy-collapse nearby, before returning attention to the threads and knots of hemp between his fingers.

Sora groaned and righted himself from the tangle of limbs and backpack.  He was wearing a red t-shirt today, one of those with the Air Jordan silhouette on the back.  It was very... jock.  "I'm not sure, I didn't look back."

"Get anything to eat?"

"Yeah, right.  The last thing I want to do right now is try to stand in line for the cafeteria."

Sora had that same taut look he'd had the day before—probably running the gauntlet just to get from the classroom to the tree he'd just fallen under.  Lunchtime tended to be the hardest.  Crowds were the thickest.  Lots of things could happen out of sight.  He scowled out of hand, made sure it was aimed at something inanimate and schooled it back into neutrality before Sora looked up at him.

Riku nudged the backpack lying open next to him--spools of hemp and box of pony beads sitting ready, and a small pile of sandwich, apple, cookies and those little juice boxes his mom still bought.  Still.  On the plus side, she didn't make him carry the Star Wars lunchbox anymore.  "I brought extra."

The way to Sora's heart was clearly through his stomach.  Or, at least, it brought a smile to his face.  Riku was more than satisfied with that and even conceded that 'jock' looked rather good on him.

Sora had finished his sandwich and was halfway through an apple before speaking again, taking notice of the little rope strands taking shape on Riku's knee.  He chewed thoughtfully—at least, Riku figured the action assisted some way in brain function.  Sora was cute like that.  "Where'd you learn to do that?"

He sat back a bit, enough to stretch his shoulders in an extended shrug and tugged one of the strands taut.  "It's just tying knots."

"You know there are bugs on your sleeve, right?"

Riku peered down to assure their safety.  "Yes."

Sora blinked at him owlishly, crunching another bite of his apple.

"I think they should probably have names."  Riku made the statement in all seriousness, pausing in the process of tying another knot to wait for a response.  If Sora didn't like the ladybugs, there were going to be issues.

Did fake relationships have issues?

"Hmm."  Sora chewed some more, rolling his eyes skyward.  "Uh.  How about Jane and Sally?"

"Don't be rude, Sora.  Apologize."  Riku held out his arm and nearly lost the solemnity of the moment at the wounded look on Sora's face.  He settled for a smirk instead.  "The red ladybugs are male."

"Oh."

"This is fifth grade biology, you know."

"I... I knew that.  It just slipped my mind."  Sora twirled the apple core between his fingers, staring down.

"Jock."  Riku said it warmly, waving his arm under Sora's nose.  "Come on now, apologize and give them some appropriate names."

"Sorry, guys."  Sora had a tiny, embarrassed smile on his face; he let one of the ladybugs crawl onto his finger, leaning forward and watching it intently.  "We'll call you Dan and Jimbo.  You can hang out at the pool hall.  That manly enough?"

"Dan and Jimbo are pleased."  Riku leaned back against the fence, warm now from the sun, and set his hemp aside long enough to eat his own lunch.  Sora scooted around to mirror him on the other side of his backpack, setting Dan loose to crawl across the front of his shirt before expertly unwrapping a juice box and punching the little straw through.  His mom must have bought them a lot, too.

Riku was enjoying the comfortable silence between them, until Sora lowered his drink and started fidgeting.  He tossed his empty sandwich bag aside.  "What?"

"People are staring.  At us."

"They won't bother us here."

Another passage of silence.  Riku ate some cookies and Sora watched the ladybug crawl across his palm.  "They're still staring."

Riku considered this—considered the warm sun creeping across his legs and the way the light from between the tree branches dappled Sora's hair gold and dark.  Considered the tension in Sora's shoulders and the way his mouth was set in a tight line.  Riku didn't like that.  He much preferred the smile.

He collected their lunch trash and stuffed it all into the paper bag he'd brought it in.  Then collected Dan and Jimbo and released the poor confused bugs onto a fencepost.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to give them a little show."

" _What_?"

"If they're going to stare, they might as well have something to stare at.  Right?"  Riku shifted his backpack to one side, so the beads would still be accessible.  Then paused, because Sora had that look of concern that was dangerously close to a pout.  That was going on the Top Ten list.  "If you're okay with that."

Sora twirled the juice box in his hands, like he had with the apple core.  "Depends on what you're doing."

"I'm laying down.  Lean back."

Sora leaned back.  Sora lifted his hands, and Riku promptly dropped to the ground on his back, head pillowed on Sora's thigh.

"PDA no way!"

"Get a room!"

Sora's hands hovered in midair for several seconds.  "Uhm.  Okay."

"Don't look so spooked.  It'll ruin the moment."  Riku smirked—the teasing one, the one that Sora could never look at for too long.

Sora did finally relax, though, and returned to sipping at his juice.  Riku pulled his knees up and continued working on his necklace.  For a moment, the world was perfect.

(And for that moment while the world was perfect, the more licentious part of Riku's brain was doing the dance of happiness and gleefully singing _Dude, he is totally letting you lay in his lap, you are SO IN._ )

The rest of Riku figured patience was a virtue, or whatever.  His mother had said something like that once, probably.

About the time the straw pulled empty from the bottom of his juice box, Sora murmured, "Now they're whispering."

It would help matters greatly, Riku decided, if Sora would pay more attention to him and not whatever idiots were leering at them and snickering behind their hands.  He threaded a yellow bead onto the hemp and tied it securely in place.  "Yeah, they do that."

Sora scowled and dumped the empty box in the paper bag, leaning sideways a bit on his hand now that it was free.  His other hand, though—

Riku didn't make any comment on the fingers that were slowly trailing through his hair.  It felt nice.  It felt _really_ nice, and he didn't want it to stop, and Sora had that absentminded look.  He probably didn't even realize he was doing it.  "Just pretend they're saying something ridiculous."

"Um... well, I think those guys are probably saying something about kicking our asses..."

"While that notion _is_ ridiculous, Sora, it's not exactly what I meant."  Riku tugged another knot tight and looked over, brief flick of the eyes—bunch of lettermen sitting on a picnic table.  "See, what they're saying is—"  He affected a girlish voice with a lisp, because stereotypes were funny that way, "'Aww man, why can't _I_ have a boyfriend as hot as Riku?'"

Sora paused for a moment, mouth open and incredulous, then with a brilliant grin, descended into a fit of giggles.  "You do that voice _way_ too well."

Smiling _and_ laughing.  Score two for Riku.  "Comes with the territory."

Sora's hand moved just slightly to the side, smoothing the hair back from his face.  "Bell's gonna ring soon."

"Mm."  Riku's eyes slipped closed, head turning just enough to press back against the touch.  Sora froze.

"Um..."

"S'okay."  Riku opened his eyes—figured he'd have to move, but didn't yet.  Not until he _absolutely_ had to.

He'd expected Sora to look startled at himself, or... something, but he looked embarrassed.  A little bit of pink around the ears, staring into middle-space somewhere around Riku's backpack.  Mumbling, "...just a show, right?"

His hand was still there.  It shifted just slightly, tingling.

"Maybe."  Riku wanted to say no.  Had the word right on the tip of his tongue.  "Maybe not."

Sora's teeth were worrying at his lower lip again.  Riku calculated precisely how little effort and movement it would take to reach up, lean up and worry Sora's lips for him.  So little.  So close and warm like this.

Then the bell rang, the bubble burst, and they were back in the thick of public spectacle.  But Riku didn't rush to pack his things away and get back to the senior hall, and neither did Sora, so he decided to count that as another small victory.

 

 

In Roxas's world, were it more forgiving and involved in general happier, less stressful events—he would never have had to come back here.  This part of his life, brief as it had been thus far, was supposed to be over, now.  It had ended over a month ago and he saw no reason, whatsoever, to revive it now.

But the office lady had smiled, at him and the ratty green flannel he'd been wearing for three days straight, now, and his scribbled-out forms and his government-issued ID card, and said they would still require the signature of a parent or guardian.  No exceptions.

So, here he was.  Punching in the gate code because numbers like that never left your head, no matter how long you ignored them.  Trudging up the annoyingly long and winding and lamplit driveway, then up the annoyingly large and high foyer steps, into the annoyingly large and spacious and disgustingly opulent mansion.  Although, his mother had always said that it wasn't a mansion—too small to be a mansion, really, it was more of a _villa_.  Roxas never saw any difference.

He still had the housekeys.  He really should have thrown them out—then at least he'd have an excuse to not go inside.

The front hall with the polished marble floors was empty.  Roxas took a sharp left past the dining room and straight into the massive, state of the art kitchen that no one but the hired cook ever used—but there was probably food in there.  Sora had ramen, but ramen only filled the stomach for so long.

He'd polished off the leftovers of a chicken salad that was in the fridge and was halfway through a bottle of Pepsi and a brick of tiramisu when footsteps padded down the hallway and halted abruptly in the entry.  The little Russian maid—Roxas could never pronounce her name right—clapped her hands in prayer before her face.  "Oh, you're back!  I am so glad."

"I'm not _back_."  Roxas pushed away from the counter and slid off his stool, interest in his slice of sweet suddenly waning.  "Is he here?"

"I see.  Boy has come here to eat our food and argue with his father."  The maid nodded to herself, folding her arms and moving to clean up after him, more out of force of habit than anything.  Her face had fallen into a tight frown.  Roxas almost felt bad.  Almost.

"Not like anyone else was eating it."

"Boy has no manners," she declared in reproach, ferrying dishes from the counter to the sink, gray bun bobbing against her neck.  "Boy would rather run around the city like a wild thing than live comfortably where his poor old maid could look after him."

"That's right."  Roxas kicked at his skateboard, loud enough to stop the tirade.  "Is he here or not?"

"Iozefina."  Voice from the doorway.  "That's enough."

His father waited for the maid to scurry out—sending Roxas one last pained look—before stalking across the room to open the refrigerator and pause in front of it, neck bowed and one hand mussing his five-hundred-dollar haircut like he was trying to decide between pop brands.  Or between being angry or being exhausted.  He never looked at Roxas.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Technically, I still live here."

"Don't get smart with me."  His father chose a water bottle and let the fridge door swing closed under its own power, taking a long swig before setting it aside on the counter and leaning backwards against the edge, finally favoring his son with a long stare.  He'd decided on exhausted, with a hint of distemper.  "You can get away with that at school all you want, but not here.  What is it?  You need money?"

"No."

"Food, then."  And the man smirked, just a calloused upturn of one side of his mouth.  "Too proud to go to the soup kitchen?  I hear that's what most homeless kids do; you must not be catching on too fast."  
  
"I'm not _homeless_ ," Roxas muttered through his teeth, despite the fact that the statement wasn't true in the least, and would remain so indefinitely unless he could manage having a civil conversation with this man.

"I see."  There was a long pause, another slow raise and fall of the water bottle in front of his father's face.  A chilly, ascertaining stare.  "You're living with—"

"No," Roxas said emphatically, despite the fact that _this_ statement was only true as of yesterday.  "I told you, you've got the wrong idea."

"I think the particulars were very, very clear, Roxas." His father took another pull off the water bottle and looked away and that moment of sheer disappointment was probably worse than hours of flinging verbal abuses at each other.  "What do you want?"

The backpack was already open--Roxas dragged out the small pile of papers, curling and dog-eared at the corners now from being hauled around all day.  Tossed them at the countertop in a movement that was really more careless than anything.  "Just need your signature."

His father picked up the papers, arranged them neatly, then flipped through with a vague and wearied interest, finally dropping his arms to his sides with a sigh.  "What is this?"

"This is me trying to meet you halfway."  Roxas kicked his skateboard again just to hear it rattle and break through the tension in the air—because all his effort was being directed at not arguing and not starting anything.  "At least this way you'll know where I am, right?"

Another sigh, and the papers landed back on the counter.  His father was rubbing his forehead.  "If you would just stop seeing that—"

"No."  Another statement, another emphasis, and in this instance it was absolutely true.

Tense silence.  Roxas offered a hard stare—because that wasn't an option.  That would _never_ be an option.

"Fine."  Click of a pen, and his father signed on the dotted line.  Held the papers up for Roxas only to pull them back at the last second.  Held vertical, alongside his head.  "I have a condition."

Roxas closed his teeth around his tongue, deliberately, because if they could end this without yelling maybe that was some kind of progress.  "What?"

"Call your mother."

He scowled.  "I'm not lying to mom for you."

"Tell her whatever you want."  And the papers were falling into his hands, his father turning to leave the kitchen.  "Just call her."

Roxas clutched the papers in his hands, wrinkling them even further, toes worrying the edge of his skateboard—watching the way his father's shoulders hunched under his dress shirt when he turned the corner and disappeared into the massive house that no one actually lived in most days.  That definitely could have gone worse.  All kinds of worse.

He might have fixed something, Roxas figured.  Even if it was just a fraction of the break.

 

 

Wednesday came to a slow and dragging close much the same as Tuesday.  Riku had walked him home after practice.  Riku had paused outside the dormitory doors without any intention of going inside.  Riku had strayed dangerously close to Sora without actually doing anything aside from a light brush of fingers against his chin—and he'd almost, _almost_ thought about it, about reaching up to tangle his fingers in Riku's hair and tilt his head just slightly, just a few inches of movement.  Because he knew that was where this was going; knew it with a certainty that made his stomach coil into knots.

He was terrified.  Sora was fully aware of this fact.

Wednesday was taco night.  There was a small dining area on the first floor where the school provided dinner for its dorm students.  Most nights it was nothing very appetizing—lukewarm spaghetti or greasy stew, nothing edible or generally portable like the breakfasts the RA's piled into the front hall each morning.  Taco night, however, was well worth braving the small ocean of stares from his dormmates, a few of whom were still singing their little playground jingles, albeit more softly than before.

All things of this nature were to quickly fall by the wayside, however, for as soon as Sora returned to his room, the phone began ringing brightly.

By the time he'd untangled the cord enough to answer it, the brightness had become rather shrill.  "Yeah?  Hello?"

"I'm starting to think, Sora," Kairi's bright voice chirped in his ear, "that you may have forgotten how to use the telephone.  It's very simple, all you have to do is punch in the numbers in the right order."

And Sora promptly collapsed into a heap on his bed.  "You will not believe the shit I have to tell you, Kai."

She made a cooing sound that was far too eager, accompanied by the clattering of cassette cases and rustling magazines and squeaking bedsprings as she settled in.  Sora could almost see her in her room, checkered bedspread and bits of her music collection scattered everywhere and Bop pinups on the walls.  She'd be sprawled on her stomach with the handset affixed to her ear, Pepsi in her free hand and a bag of Doritos open on the comforter, well-supplied and ready for a lengthy phone session.

He hadn't felt this homesick since—

"Start at the beginning," Kairi urged in his ear.  "Tell me everything."

He spent the next hour (possibly two, he wasn't keeping track) outlining in exact detail all the events of the past three days.  He laid on the bed with his head in his hands and told her about the kiss in the locker room that never happened.  He stood and paced and described in detail the careful tribal signals of pink and glitter that the girl-entity wore to signify their collective standing.  He waved his arms and collapsed again and explained to her that Roxas had appeared in his tree, and that he snored.  He paced some more and talked about ladybugs, and how the red ones were actually male.  And that he was pretty sure that Riku wanted to _actually_ kiss him rather than just have done so in theory.

At the end of this tirade he was standing helplessly in the center of the room, completely entangled in the phone cord, and Kairi had become very quiet.  It struck him as unusual—the girl could keep conversational pace with him even at the height of caffination.  It was one of the reasons they got along so well.  At least, that was what Sora figured.

"Sora... okay, hon.  I want you to really listen to me for a minute."

"Okay."

"I have two very important things to tell you."

His mouth felt dry—probably from talking for an hour (or two).  "I'm listening, Kai."

She took a deep breath over the phone, the sound tickling his ear.  "First of all, you realize that this is the first time I've talked to you since you moved that you've actually mentioned people you know by name?"

Sora mouthed silently in the general direction of his desk.  "Really?"

"You talked about 'the hockey team', and 'the kids in the dorm' before.  Now you're talking about 'Riku' and 'Roxas'.  It's quite a shift."

"Really?"  He could think of nothing better to do than repeat himself.

"Really, Sora.  I'm glad you have some friends, now."  He could hear the smile in her voice.

He frowned to himself, slightly, eying the space on his floor that Roxas's skateboard and backpack had occupied the night before.  "I dunno if you'd call them that..."

"And the second thing, Sora..."

"Yeah?"

Another breath over the line, another tickle of static in his ear.  "Well... you probably haven't realized it yet, but I guess it's more obvious from the outside.  You know?"  She giggled softly, like she was sharing a well-kept secret.  "You're not exactly a yardstick, honey."

Sora paused midway through another pace, knee catching on the phone cord and frowning at the door.  "Um... and that means...?"

"Straight, Sora."  She was rolling her eyes, he could tell.  "You're not exactly _straight_."

He sputtered against the mouthpiece.  "And what makes you think that?"

"You kissed Cloud, for one."

" _That was not a kiss!_ "  He jerked on the cord in a futile expression of indignation.  "That was a peck on the cheek, and I only did it because I was leaving!"

"That so?"

"Kai-ri," he groaned, spinning in a small circle that only made the tangles tighten.  "You _know_ it was just an old joke."

She hummed to herself, and Sora thought she sounded like his mom used to when he was a kid, considering if she'd give him the cookie he was begging for.  "Okay, I'll give you that, then.  But most importantly, I say this based on the fact that I can tell just from hearing you talk about him _over the phone_ that you like Riku.  That's pretty incriminating."

"Why does everyone keep saying that I like him?"

"I don't know—why are you dodging the issue?  If you don't like him, then say so."

"I—"  Sora started, but even after minutes of silence, no further sound came out.

"It's okay, Sora."  Kairi's voice was soft and light, the kind of voice that reminded him of warm sunlight and palm trees and pleasant days on the beach, with the ocean and the calm.  "It really is okay."

"I don't know what to do," he said finally.

"That's okay, too."

Someone knocked on his door, startling him out of the spiral of thoughts that were slowly carrying him somewhere, somewhere deep and away from even the two concepts sharing a couch in his brain.  They were just the beginning, really.

Sora started for the door, and this action nearly resulted in him planting his face directly on the floor.  The cord was still wound around his knees.  He spun a few times to release some of it, then kicked one leg over and hopped forward on one foot when the knocking grew louder and more immediate.

"What's that noise?"  Kairi over the phone, patiently waiting for him to work out the tangled mess in his head.  Or the tangled mess of cord wrapped around his body, either one.

"Door," he muttered, shaking a coil off one foot, stumbling forward and colliding with said object before mostly righting himself.  Most of the phone cord was still wrapped around his chest and arms and one of his legs, but the knocking was nearly pounding now, and so, he threw the door open.

The RA in the hall took him in, bleary eyes and rumpled clothes and tangled cord and all.  "Um.  Hello, Sora.  Sorry to disturb you, but this is kind of urgent."

"Room inspection?"

"Ah, no."  The RA smiled almost nervously, something knowing behind the look that made Sora scowl, and the way the guy's eyes wandered past him to take in the room beyond like he expected something illicit to be going on.

"What then?"

"Well, we're sorry for the short notice, but you've been assigned a roommate.  Yours being the only room available at the moment and all."  Eyes forward, fake smile.  All things fake in the face of this damn rumor.

A roommate.  Two months on his own and _now_ of all times they decided to give him a roommate.  Although, Sora reasoned, if he _had_ a roommate, he'd have a solid and unshakable excuse to ensure that there would be no further tree-climbing into his room by the school delinquent.  And, subsequently, no more kitten-purr snoring or wet towels on his bathroom floor.  "Uh, okay.  When is—"

The RA turned sharply, looking down the hall and waving to someone out of sight.  "Oh, there you are.  Perfect timing.  This here is Sora, he'll be your roommate.  Try to get along, okay?"

And there, in the hallway before him, backpack and duffel bags and boombox and skateboard all carefully balanced in his arms, stood Roxas, beaming at him like he'd just received everything he'd ever wanted for Christmas.  "Hey there, roomie."

"Kairi," Sora murmured very slowly into the phone and hoped she picked up on at least a fraction of the amount of horror he was currently experiencing, "I'm going to have to call you back."


	4. Nearly Lost You

**4:  Nearly Lost You**

 

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Sora hissed after the RA closed the door behind him, and was pretty sure he'd said the exact same thing last night.  He was still trying to remove the phone cord from its tangle around and between and underneath his arms.

"Thought I'd make it official."  Roxas settled his boombox on the unused desk, the one by the window, and dumped his duffels on the floor next to it.  His skateboard was already stowed in place by the door, with Sora's rollerblades, innocently taking up space on Roxas's behalf that had once been blessedly Roxas-free.  "This way I have a place to stay, and you don't get in trouble for it.  Two birds, one stone."  He turned around to flash Sora another Christmas-morning grin.

Sora decided it was pure evil.

Once untangled, he remained on his bed for the entire process of Roxas ingraining himself into Sora's space, copy of _Hamlet_ propped open on his pillow, dutifully taking notes and scribbling cartoons in the margins.  Above and beyond all that, he watched Roxas haul piles of t-shirts and flannels and baggy jeans and cargos and pair after pair of Converse into the formerly-empty wardrobe, the lot disappearing inside, perhaps never to be seen again, with the state of mess Roxas kept his clothing in.  Watched him carry an armload of hairstyling product into the bathroom and mourned the imminent lack of counter space.  Watched him do it all in time with Alice in Chains (thankfully kept at a reasonable volume) booming out of his stereo.  He'd set that up first, immediately securing it in place on the desk and plugging it in; the only thing Roxas had done prior to that was find a nook for his skateboard.

Sora observed his priorities, and filed this information away in the growing pile behind his mental couch.

Roxas finally paused and looked around the room again--duffel bags now empty and stowed atop the wardrobe, toiletries arranged in the bathroom, backpack neglected by the desk.  Stacks of CDs taking over what little desk space remained and a small pile of books shoved just out of sight.  Finally, he paused at the phone mounted on the wall, just aside from Sora's desk.  There was a short list of phone numbers hanging beside it--Sora watched him scroll through them all.  Mom.  Grandma.  Kairi home and Kairi pager.  Flying Pie.  There was a space just below where he'd almost written in Riku's name a few times, anticipating that one of these mornings or lunch periods or after-practice walks home, the boy was going to scrawl the digits on the back of his wrist in blue rollerball ink.

Roxas grabbed a pen off of Sora's desk and began writing.  Something.  Sora twisted around and finally sat up, peering around the bunk post to see.

_Roxas cell_ , it said.

"You _did_ page me from the tree!"

"Yeah."  Roxas looked up from scratching out the digits, leaning back and recapping the pen in satisfaction.  "Why, who'd you think it was?"

Sora shrugged a little, leaning back into the safety of his bunk.  "Um.  The tree?"

Roxas stared at him for a long moment, some level of open-mouthed bafflement painted on his face.  "You're a weird kid, you know that?"

"Eheh."  Sora attempted a grin, but it might have failed by way of embarrassment.  He shrugged and reverted the subject back to what he'd originally intended.  "You seriously have a cell phone?"

Roxas pulled it out of his pocket and waved it in the air, nothing fancy, some kind of silver flip-phone, in fact being flipped open at the moment.  "What's the number here?"

Sora nodded to himself and carefully straightened, placing both feet on the floor, and leveled Roxas with a stern, not-really-intimidating-but-attempting-such stare.  "Are you a dealer?"

Roxas met his glare, eyes wide for a moment, then narrowed and his mouth pulled into a smirk.  "Nickel bags are twenty, dimes are double."

" _What?_ "

"I know, inflation's a bitch."

Sora made a low strangled noise.

Roxas held his poise and smirk for a moment longer, then snickered and started laughing.  "I'm kidding, Sora."

"Really."  He drew the word out in disbelief, shoes scraping against the floor and scowled when Roxas just snickered again behind his hand, pressing some more buttons on his phone.

"I'm not a dealer, Sora."  He rolled his eyes and tossed the cell over, Sora fumbling before capturing it between his hands.  "Received call list.  Check it out."

Sora frowned at the tiny monochrome screen, and it took him a few minutes to figure out how to scroll around through the list--most of it seemed to be taken up by a single number, with the odd notation 'Ax' at the end.  Then one just labeled 'home line'.  A couple interspersed with the cryptic title 'Z dorm'.  Another from a Hayner, and then two from a Nami.  More from 'Ax'.  Olette, another home line, and yet more Ax.  Nothing anonymous, but Sora wasn't entirely sure that proved anything.

"Number's there under the receiver."  Sora mumbled it, handing the cell back.  It was going to nag at him for a while, he was sure, but he'd let it drop for now.

Roxas punched some buttons into the little device and then flipped it closed, crossing the room again to drop it on his desk.  Sora wondered idly what he'd labeled the number.

"Don't look so down."  Roxas clambered onto the top bunk, then leaned over the edge, peering at Sora upside-down.  "I thought you'd be cool with this, Sora."

He scratched out a line of misspelled notes with gusto.  "What made you think that?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows the truth about you and Riku."

Sora flopped back onto his pillow, picking up the book to find his page again.  "I don't think he likes you much."

"Oh?"  Roxas didn't seem surprised to hear it (even upside-down as he was) but the question hung in the air and stretched nevertheless.

"He said you lived to make bad situations worse."

"Really."  A strange frown passed over Roxas's face.  It looked almost... contemplative.  He disappeared from view and back onto his own bunk with a huff of mattress and boy alike.  "Well, that explains something, at least."

"What?"

"Stupid shit that happened a long time ago.  Forget it."

Sora didn't forget it, though.  He filed it, very carefully, in the pile behind the couch marked 'What the Fuck is Up with Riku and Roxas?'  Most of the piles seemed to be titled with questions like this.

If Roxas snored tonight, Sora decided, he was going to kick the mattress.  He didn't care _how_ soft it was.

 

 

"Hey, Roxas?"

"Hey yourself."

Sora shifted on his back, tongue wetting his lips and toes resting on one of the slats crossing the bunk above him.  The headlights of a car crossed the room slowly.  "So... your family's loaded or something, right?"

Rustle of blankets somewhere above.  "...what makes you say that?"

"Well... you have a cell phone."  Sora shrugged and figured it was matter-of-fact; that was just something you didn't see every day.  He let his leg drop to rest on his knee, stuffing his arms under his pillow.  "And a boombox with a CD player.  And, like, fifty pairs of Converse."

"More like fifteen."  Roxas made the correction in a wry tone, still and otherwise quiet on the top bunk.  "And that doesn't prove anything."

"Whatever."  Another shrug against the pillow and Sora kicked absently at the air around his foot.  "I'm right, aren't I?"

Puff of air in the dark, something between a sigh and a huff.  "...something like that, I guess."

"Oh.  That's cool."

The silence lasted another few moments, and then there was a shuffling above, Roxas turning to face the wall, and that tended to be a sort of gesture that the conversation was over.  Sora frowned, because he wasn't done yet.

He straightened his legs back flat on the blankets.  "So.  Um."  He braced himself for either a retort or a pointed lack of response.  "Did you get kicked out?"

For a few minutes he thought he'd ended up with the latter; then, slightly muffled by the pillow and the direction he was facing, Roxas muttered, "I left."

Sora frowned at the general space above him--at the mattress and the wood and voice beyond that.  Because being kicked out and leaving pretty much amounted to the same thing, right?  "Why?"

There was a sound like a breath, like a mouth opening to respond, but it ended before it got any farther than that.  The blankets rustled, being tugged up higher.

"Roxas?"

Silence.

Sora let out a breath, and figured that was probably as far as he was ever going to get in his attempt at understanding this kid who inexplicably decided to worm his way into his life.  He couldn't have been in any real trouble--the dorms required signatures and a reasonable explanation.

He could let it go, for now.  "G'night."

He didn't expect to hear anything further, but after a moment when he had the blankets pulled up to his chin and was comfortably curled in his pillow, Roxas murmured, "Night, Sora."

This roommate thing might work out.  Maybe.

  
The coach--in his usual manner of partial self-absorption and barely restrained epithets in a booming voice, pacing in front of his office like a caged tiger--was grilling them on the game tomorrow night.  Something about school rivalry and defending their honor, waving his hands emphatically at his supposedly rapt audience of halfway dressed-down hockey players, most of them with skates still rolling against the tiled floor.

Sora wasn't paying much attention, mostly because Bactine stung like hell and the scrape down his calf was gritty with pavement dirt that didn't want to remove itself from his broken skin without a fight.  So instead of paying attention to the coach and shouting in time with his team at the appropriate breaks in the speech, he was hissing and barely restraining epithets of his own.

It was at this point that the doors at the other end of the locker room opened and the swim team started trailing in.

Sora wasn't watching--not really.  It was just easy, from his position bent over his leg, to cast a look over from the corners of his eyes.  Watch Riku walking to his locker, dripping wet, goggles around his neck and towel limp over his head and absently rubbing at his hair.  Nothing on him but water and a regulation black speedo.

He decided, at some point before that particular sight made his eyes cross, that there would be no awkward shuffling outside his dorm that day.

"EYES FORWARD, DAMMIT!  Ogle your boyfriend some other time!"

Sora immediately became very interested in the injury on his leg, casting one apologetic look up at his coach when he rolled his eyes and continued with the tirade.  A few of his teammates snickered.  One of them, in the corner where the coach didn't have a good view, performed a ridiculous pantomime of making out with the air, others nearby chuckling silently.

It could have been worse, he supposed.

 

 

Riku seemed to like fences.  Sora wasn't sure exactly why--maybe because they made a good surface to lean against.  Maybe it was some kind of symbolic barrier he liked to place himself alongside, a protection against anything that might come from behind.  Or maybe, Sora pondered while walking out of the locker room, gaze immediately finding Riku in his usual waiting place against the usual chain links--maybe he just liked the feeling of being on one side of it.

Or maybe symbolism was something that escaped him entirely.  His English teacher would probably agree--but sometimes a fence was just a damn _fence_ , and any fence that provided Riku's presence was fine with him.

He left his skates on that day, which made the walk that much more interesting.  More like a constant attempt at some kind of compromise--sometimes Riku would have to run to keep up, and Sora would grin back at him and tell him to man it up and Riku would laugh.  Sometimes Sora would skate in little circles around him as he walked and Riku would chide him for making him dizzy.  Sometimes Sora would just hang on to Riku's backpack and let himself roll along from behind.

"You're heavy," Riku said, coming to a halt.  Dormitory looming before them.  Teasing smirk on his face.  "You're too damn scrawny to be that heavy."

"It's called _physique_ , Riku, I thought you knew about that."  Sora let go of the backpack and expertly hopped up the stairs, wheels sliding to a halt at the doorframe.  Looked back over his shoulder--innocently, he told himself, and it really was.  "You coming?"

Riku looked baffled for a moment, and Sora didn't think he'd ever seen anything like it.  His eyebrows went up and disappeared under his bangs, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a silent O.  He looked almost lost for a moment before it wore off, clearing his throat and shrugging nonchalantly, casually climbing the steps behind him.  "Yeah, sure."

Sora opened the door and rolled into the foyer, smile beaming to the world at large.

"Mail for you, Sora," the dorm mother called from behind her counter, and then without fail her attention landed on Riku, closing the door behind him and following Sora inside.  "Oh, hello.  Guests are required to sign in, please."

Somehow, the entire building became instantly silent.  The normal chatter from the common area ground to a distinct halt, muted shuffling the only indication that it was occupied.  He was sure, the feeling nagging on the back of his neck as he rolled backwards towards the stairs while flipping through the envelopes in his hands (two public colleges and an army recruiter), that as many of them as possible were gathered and peering through the door to the foyer--watching as Riku scribbled his name into the guestbook.

He didn't bother looking up to see.  He was tired of them--all of them, with their eyes and their knowing glances.

_Yes, that's right.  Riku is coming up to my room.  And nothing is going to actually happen, but you can all talk each other's ears to bleeding about it for all I care._

Sora wondered, holding the banisters with both hands while negotiating the stairs on rows of wheels, when he'd become so defiant.  He decided it had something to do with Roxas.

About the time he was curled over his desk finishing off the last problem on his trig homework, Sora started laughing.

Riku looked up from the spot he'd taken on the lower bunk, just on the other side of the desk, textbook in his lap and pencil twirling between his fingers as he puzzled through an essay question.  "What?"

"I was just thinking how scandalized everyone downstairs must be right now."

And there it was--slow, small smile on Riku's face, followed by a low chuckle.  "So long as you're amused."  He set the book and pencil aside, leaning over between the bunk posts to rest his elbows on Sora's desk, arms folded and chin resting atop.  "It'll be all over school tomorrow."

"I know."  Sora finished the problem and set the pencil down, leaning over his textbook to mirror Riku's position.  They examined each other for a long moment, before Riku moved, straightening just enough to reach out with one hand.

"I'm glad you're not so tense anymore."  The hand landed in Sora's hair, ruffling through it in a slow pet.

Sora hummed to himself and closed his eyes, feeling fingers traveling to the base of his skull and partway down his neck, shivering, before returning upwards.  It was nice, just like that.  Really nice.  He could stay here for a while--few years, maybe.  "Yeah."

"Did something happen last night?"  Riku's hand paused but didn't move away, and when Sora opened his eyes he was frowning--in a small way, eyebrows drawn together.

Sora blew a breath against his arm.  "Well--"

He was going to tell him about Kairi.  He really was--about her, and probably some about Cloud and his mom and maybe the things Kairi had said, although he wasn't sure he wanted to--it was all kind of girly.

Unfortunately, the door to his room chose that moment to all but explode open to admit one blond-headed blur at a dead run, who quickly skidded to a halt and slammed the door behind him, pressed backwards and spreadeagled across it (skateboard secure in one hand).  There were a few bits of red crepe paper stuck in his hair.

Roxas took note of the two boys huddled intimately around Sora's desk, each giving him a startlingly different incredulous stare.  Riku's hand was still wrapped up in Sora's hair, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.

Roxas raised one hand in a belated greeting.  "Sup."

Sora couldn't come up with a response to that, so he just said the obvious.  "You have crepe paper in your hair."

"That's possible, yeah."

"That wouldn't be the decorations for the pep rally tomorrow, would it?"

"Hypothetically it could be."

Sora felt his eyes narrowing, taking in Roxas and his crepe paper and skateboard and the evil half-smile on his lips.  "What did you do?"

"Nothing illegal."

"Sora."  Riku spoke for the first time since the sudden entry, hand slipping out of Sora's hair.  He very nearly grabbed it and put it back in place, but Riku's mouth had drawn into a tight line.  "What's he doing here?"

The words weren't accusatory, or even resentful--just a quietly worded question.  But Roxas and Riku's gazes met across the few feet of space between the desk and the door, and something in the air crackled.

Sora coughed nervously, glancing back and forth between them, Riku coiled against the desk and Roxas still flat and holding the door securely closed.  "Uhm.  Roxas is kind of my roommate now."

Riku contemplated that for a moment, mouth twisting around itself into something unpleasant that was neither a smile nor a frown.  "I see."

Roxas finally moved, tossing his head in annoyance and pushing away from the door with something like a muffled scoff.  "Come off it, Riku."

"No, I understand perfectly.  Just couldn't resist getting involved, could you?"  Riku spurred to action as well, scooting to the edge of the bed and stuffing his homework back in his backpack.  Finally muttering to the zipper, "I need to get home."

Sora stood up at that point, chair legs scraping against the linoleum and hands fisted at his sides, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him.  And somehow, all the tension in the room drained away.

Riku climbed to his feet abruptly and said, "It's just that I need to be back in time for dinner, Sora," at the same time that Roxas waved his arms in something resembling apology and said, "Yanno, it looks like I interrupted something here, so--"

Everything fell to silence for a moment, then Roxas shuffled and looked back and forth between Riku and Sora before muttering, "I'll just... uh..." before ducking backwards into the bathroom, door swinging shut behind him.  The faucets turned on.

Riku shuffled in almost exactly the same way, tugging on his backpack straps.  "Sorry about that."

"What is it with you two?"  Sora leaned against his desk, watching Riku and the way he shifted and the way he finally looked up when Sora spoke.

"He didn't tell you?"

"Not a thing."

"Oh."  Riku glanced over at the bathroom then shook his head, pushed his hair out of his face and rolled his eyes.  "It's nothing, really.  Just stupid."

"That's what he said."

"Well, he's right."  Riku moved forward finally, arm around Sora's shoulders and resting his chin against Sora's head.  Stayed like that for a long minute, just there and warm.

Sora finally slid his arms around Riku's waist, hands grasping each other loosely at the small of his back.  He noted, somewhere behind the warmth and the quiet and his forehead pressed against Riku's shoulder, that he still smelled like bar soap and chlorine.

"You have a game tomorrow, right?"  Riku's breath ruffled in his hair.

"Yeah."

"I'll come watch."

Riku pulled away reluctantly, hand lingering in Sora's hair, down the side of his face to his neck before drawing back, apologetic smile quickly becoming that smirk.  "Next time."

Sora blinked, feeling cold without all that Riku wrapped around him.  "Next time what?"

But Riku just chuckled and walked out the door.

 

 

Roxas knew better--but that had never stopped him before.  So after pulling the bathroom door closed behind him, he made sure it was ajar, just by a bare crack, because he knew better--but who could resist?

He couldn't hear what they were saying because of the water he'd started running--and prided himself on affording them that much privacy.  Through the slit he observed--how they moved around each other, still a little awkward, still uncertain.  He figured Sora was probably a virgin, he was just too much of a general dork not to be, and Riku... well, Riku was just cautious by nature.  Eventually though they fell into a comfortable embrace, and then they just... stood there.

How boring.

Once he was certain Riku had left, and Sora had flopped bonelessly onto his bed to daydream about that close moment for a while, Roxas swung the door open and flipped the light off, leaning back against the frame with hands shoved in his pockets.  "So, what.  You don't kiss your boyfriend goodbye?"  He grinned when Sora jerked upright and leveled him with a childish glare.  "Lame, Sora."

"He's not--I mean, not _really_..."

"'Yet,'" Roxas finished when Sora's voice trailed off.  "The word you want is 'yet'."  He stalked across the room to the bunkbeds--he'd figured out how to get to the top bunk by launching himself from the lower one, and thus did so--jostling Sora and most of the bed structure in the process.  "And you know, 'yet' is going to be a permanent factor unless one of you takes some initiative."

"And you're concerned about this _why_?"  Sora poked him through the mattress.

Mostly, Roxas figured, because he owed it to Riku.  He wasn't entirely sure why, most days, but that was the nearest explanation he could find.  "Consider it my good deed for society.  You know, community service to make up for all the juvenile delinquency stuff."

"Speaking of which."  The bed shivered and Sora's head poked up over the side of his mattress.  "What did you do to the pep rally decorations?"

"Nothing."  Roxas drew the word out into a long string of vowels.

Sora made a disbelieving "buh" sound and dropped back onto the floor.  "I have a game tomorrow, you know."

"Oh yeah, tomorrow's Friday.  You've got a hot date lined up with Riku, right?"  Roxas propped his chin up on his elbow and watched Sora pace around--remember he still had homework open on his desk, belatedly, and yeah pretty faces could distract a guy that way.

"I have a _game_ , Roxas."  Sora muttered it to the cover of his trigonometry book, like that should have explained everything; he'd never quite understood jocks, or how they had so much free time to devote to sports--Roxas spent most of his in detention.  "And there's a swim meet on Saturday."

He added these statements up in his head.  Sora plus game equals busy.  Riku plus swim meet equals equally busy.  Early to rise and early to bed, makes a man healthy but his social life dead.  "So I take it this means no hot date."

"No."

"Okay, okay, fine."  Roxas rolled onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, smirking at the ceiling--Sora was just too easy to wind up.  "You just go ahead and keep dancing around him if that's what you want."

Sora looked up at him with a glare, shoving textbooks back into his backpack before tossing it into the corner where his homework usually landed, sitting back down and paging through that copy of _Hamlet_ again.  Like he had last night, frowning in concentration.  Sora didn't strike him as the studious type--he struggled too much with it and distracted too easily.

  
Roxas figured there was an explanation, then, for why he was so set on getting all that work done, every night.  It would come up later.

"Hey."

" _What_."  The annoyance was audible in Sora's voice, and Roxas realized he had a fantastic view of the top of the kid's head from his bunk.  Right there at the end, the desk situated just below.

Too bad he had nothing to drop.  "Tell you what, I'll take off for a while on Sunday.  Invite him over or something, you can do homework together or whatever boring stuff you two do."

"...Okay."

Roxas took that as a truce, and pulled a paperback out from under his pillow.  Just as he was settled in reading, though, Sora's voice drifted back up from behind his own book.  "Hey, Rox?"

"Hm?"

"Wha'd you do to the pep rally decorations?"

Roxas offered a dark chuckle and nothing further.

 

 

Riku had never realized how fascinating spaghetti could be.

The part of his brain that was fully aware of himself and his surroundings knew, in fact, that the spaghetti was nothing special.  It knew that Riku was only staring at it twirling around his fork absently because there were other, more pressing matters on his mind.  It also knew that Riku's parents, who had been observing this behavior for nearly fifteen minutes, were now whispering to each other--and furthermore that Riku's little sister was making faces at him, and his older brother was preparing to launch a spoonful of peas at his head.

Riku himself, in the part of his mind that he currently occupied, was aware of none of this.  His eyes were focused on the ropes of noodles and sauce spinning on his fork--around and around again--and his thoughts dwelt entirely upon the memory of touch.  Of hair under his fingers and a warm body pressed against his, arms around his waist, and it would have been so easy...  He was certain of it, that Sora's mouth would have been soft and pliant, that Sora would have clutched at him, whimpered a bit and pressed closer.  He was sure Sora would taste like salt and bubblegum.

These were the thoughts Riku was having when a spoonful of peas smashed against his face, startling him enough that he all but jumped out of his chair.

He instantly cast a glare across the table at his brother, spoon waving absently with an innocent grin on his face.  "Mao--"

"No fighting at the table, please.  Mao, you can clean that up when you're done."

Riku's attention traveled to his mother, whose hands were folded primly over her plate, watching him with her head tilted to one side.  Beside her, his father was rolling his eyes skyward and folding his napkin.  At his side, his sister was offering him a brightly evil eight-year-old smile.

All their plates were empty.

"So, Riku."  His mother smiled softly and leaned forward on her elbows.  "What's his name?"

Riku paused, choked on nothing and reached for his glass of water.

His father shook his head.  "Honestly, Risa--"

"Now dear, we promised we'd be supportive."

"I _am_ supportive.  I have nothing but pride in my second son, whom I love dearly."  His father nodded to himself in mock solemnity, placing one hand dramatically over his heart.  "I even got a bumper sticker to prove it.  It's right between 'My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student' and 'Visualize Whirled Peas'."  He paused here to rest his elbows on the table and tap his fingers together, staring upwards as though contemplating the mysteries of the universe.  “What I don't understand is why this means he has to date boys.”

Riku wondered if it was possible to drown oneself in a glass of water.  
  
His mother was shaking her head and muttering something regarding the intentional idiocy of husbands in general, at the same time as his brother rolled his shoulders and held up his hands. "Not to worry, Dad, I can explain everything. You see, when two people--two _male_ people--love each other very much--"

And during all of this, above and beyond it, his sister had taken up a beat, drumming against her plate with a knife and fork.  "Ri-ku has a boy-friend.  Ri-ku has a boy-friend."

Why.  Why, why, why did he have to be born in this household?  Or at all, for that matter.

"That's ENOUGH, all of you."  His mother's voice brought the table to something approaching silence, until it finished with, "Now stop that, Haru, before you break Mommy's dishes."

For a few moments, there was blessed silence, Riku spending it poking at his spaghetti and plucking a squished pea off the side of his face.  His dinner had gone cold, and he wasn't really hungry to begin with.

Eventually, though, his father pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed.  "You know we're just giving you a hard time, son.  It is our sworn duty as your family to embarrass you whenever possible."

"Sweetheart," his mother pressed, leaning even closer now.  "What's his _name_?"

Riku groaned and slid down in his seat, tossing his napkin over the remains of dinner.  "What makes you think--"

"Oh, nothing," Mao interrupted with a smirk, eyebrows waggling suggestively.  "Just the way you stared so _lovingly_ at your spaghetti.  We were waiting for you to start a sonnet, you know--ode to a meatball--"

"You've been taking double lunches for the past two days."  His mother nodded.

"And you've been playing that Bush song."  His father pulled off his glasses and rubbed his forehead.  "A _lot_."

Riku slid lower in the chair, folding his arms over his chest and hoping that if he held very, very still they would think he had vanished.

"Come on, Riku," his mother chided, like she was coaxing him to just try the brussels sprouts--because really, he might like them if he gave them a chance.  No luck.  "We don't have Mao to keep tabs on you at school anymore, so open up a little.  What's his name?"

He pressed his tongue against his teeth, eyes traveling all around until they could settle somewhere safe--which ended up being a spot at the edge of the tablecloth to his right.  Then mumbled, "Sora."

"So-ra."  His brother drawled the name, rolling his eyes upwards.  "I don't remember a Sora, is he an underclassman?"

"Transfer."

"Oh, wonderful." His mother folded her hands in front of her face, smiling brilliantly.  "Tell me all about him!"

At his side, again, Haru tapped quietly at her plate and sang to herself, quietly, "Ri-ku has a boy-friend."

"Um."  Riku balked at the stares coming at him from every direction, finding that spot on the tablecloth again.  "He lives in the dorms.  And he's on the hockey team."

"Hockey team..."  His father repeated the phrase and trailed off, finger tapping at his chin.  Riku could almost see the distorted image forming in his mind.

"Ri-ku has a boy-friend."

"Poor dear," his mother intoned at nearly the same time.  "Why does he live in the dorms?"

Riku frowned, at himself this time, wondering the same thing.  "I didn't think to ask."

"Aha."  His father raised his hand and rapped it against the edge of the table in victory.  "I've got it.  Hockey player, big handsome muscle man, right?  That's a bit overboard, even for me, but if it makes my second son, whom I love dearly, happy, then--"

"Ri-ku has a boy-friend."

"Actually," Riku said, and didn't realize how loud his voice was until the table fell silent.  He cleared his throat and repeated, softly, "Actually, he's kind of small.  Shorter than me, I mean, and kind of skinny.  He's a speed demon on the court, though.  You should see him."  He rubbed the edge of the table with one finger, watching it move back and forth.  "His eyes are blue.  Like, really bright blue, and he has this amazing smile--"

Riku stuttered to a halt abruptly, realizing that he'd been rambling on while his entire family listened--and that he had an embarrassingly silly grin on his face.  He rapidly replaced it with a grimace.  "I mean--uh..."

His mother leaned back abruptly.  "Haru, will you take the plates to the sink, please?  And Mao--clean up the mess you made."

Murmurs of "yes, mom" passed around as everyone aside from Riku and his still-beaming mother stood and began clearing the table quietly.  She stood up when they'd all disappeared into the kitchen, rounding the table to sit in the vacated seat at his side.

"You're absolutely adorable, Riku, you know that?"

" _Mom_."

"Invite him for dinner sometime."  She patted his head gently, moving to stand and then leaning over his shoulder once again.  "And--find another song to play, okay sweetie?  It really is kind of annoying."

Riku groaned and dropped his head on the table, not sure if he was fully mortified yet or if his siblings still had further horrors planned out for the remainder of the evening.  There was no way he was bringing Sora to this... insanity.  His family.  At least he didn't have to explain it to them--and they would never think to ask, and thank god Mao was in college now--that his supposed boyfriend was currently just a show.  A farce to support each other until the rumor died.

And when it did--when it sputtered and died like a spent candle and faded into the collective student body memory, _then_ everything would be real.  If he was lucky... maybe sooner than that.

He still wasn't bringing Sora for dinner, though.  There was no way in heaven or hell.


	5. Badfish

**5:  Badfish**  
  
Sora got his best thinking done when the lights were out and the dorm was quiet enough that he could hear the crickets chirping outside.  The shuffle and murmur of Roxas on the top bunk was starting to fade into the background of the general nighttime soundtrack at these times, lulling like white noise while he pawed through the cluttered space of his brain and tried to sort out the piles of mental notes behind the couch where Fake and Ownership were still watching their monster movies.  
  
The pile labeled 'Riku' was getting ridiculously large, encumbered now by the almost-thought slipping around haphazardly on the top.  Sora tried to bat it away, but it was a bit... fluffy and felt kind of nice.  He decided he'd best leave it alone for now.  
  
Instead, he dove headfirst into the pile he'd added to earlier, the one concerning Riku and Roxas and just what the hell was up with them. He'd say they outright hated each other--only, no, that wasn't quite right.  Roxas didn't seem to have a problem, at least up until Riku started snapping at him.  Riku _definitely_ had a problem.  
  
 _It's nothing.  He just lives to make bad situations worse, that's all._  
  
Riku acted like he was surprised that Roxas hadn't already explained the whole thing.  They both made the assertion it was no big deal, despite the blatantly obvious tension, yet neither had anything to say other than, 'it's nothing, it's stupid.'  Roxas seemed pretty damned intent on shoving Sora into Riku's arms, and Riku seemed pretty damned preferential to not being anywhere in Roxas's proximity.  
  
He knew it had something to do with whatever had happened to Riku--when he got _outed_ or whatever.  Maybe Roxas was the one who outed him?  That kind of made sense, although Roxas knew how the rumor mill worked and he didn't seem like the type of guy to do that kind of thing on purpose.  
  
Unless it was accidental.  Unless... _wait_.  
  
No.  Couldn't be... could it?  
  
Sora noted an indignant anger flaring up out of nowhere and abruptly aimed a kick at the mattress above him before clambering up the side, vaguely aware of Roxas's, "OW, what the _fuck_."  He pulled himself up by the railing and stared down his half-awake and scowling roommate venomously.  
  
Roxas's hair was embarrassingly disheveled.  Oh, triumph.  
  
"Did you sleep with him?"  Sora demanded, rather more loudly than was necessary at this time of night.  
  
"What?"  Roxas rubbed his eyes with one hand, as though doing so would banish the infuriated Sora from his bedside.  "What the fuck are you talking about?  You kicked me!"  
  
"DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?"  Okay, the neighbors probably heard that one, but they were used to Sora yelling randomly in his sleep.  At least, he hoped they were.  At least, he hoped they were with the part of his mind that was not currently in full pissed-off mode.  
  
" _Who?_ "  
  
"RIKU!"  
  
Roxas squinted his eyes at Sora, grimacing and shaking his head like he was asking if turtles could turn purple and sprout wings.  "The fuck, Sora, go back to bed."  And he promptly buried his face in the pillow.  
  
"NO, you will damn well ANSWER ME this time, Roxas."  
  
Roxas's head shot up abruptly and he scowled darkly, teeth grit behind his lips.  " _No_.  I never slept with your precious fucking boyfriend.  What the fuck is your problem, do you cut class to watch soap operas all day or something?  Go to _bed,_ Sora."  
  
Sora nodded silently to himself and dropped back onto his mattress, listening to Roxas roll and jerk at his blankets and mutter, "Fuck," and "Goddamned Sky-boy fucking kicking me in the middle of the night," and finally, "Jealous much?"  
  
"I guess so," Sora murmured in response.  
  
"Well, you've got nothing to be jealous of.  Riku hates my guts."  Roxas finally settled in with one last growl and huff.  "Don't ever fucking kick me again or you'll be sleeping in the goddamned tree."  
  
"...Sorry."  
  
"...okay, yeah, well maybe I'd of kicked me, too.  Whatever.  Go to sleep, idiot."  
  
Sora grinned, at the top bunk and the half-assed forgiveness alike.  "G'night Rox."  
  
"Guh."  
  
  
  
  
  
On Friday, the girl-entity had grown by two.  The new arrivals wore more lavender than pink and were not ranked high enough amongst the rest of the collective to wear facial glitter yet.  Sora almost felt sorry for them, until he was being crushed against the janitor's closet door, knob digging into his back.  
  
"Hi Soooora!" the entity cooed as one.  
  
Roxas (who had attached himself to Sora's backpack and hitched a ride to school via Sora-propelled skateboard) watched all this with a rather blank expression.  Sora noted that he made no move to help him--and figured this must be for one of two reasons:  
  
1.  Roxas was getting too much of a kick out of this to step in, or  
  
2.  Roxas knew better--and if Roxas knew better, Sora should probably be very, very afraid.  
  
"Sooooooo...."  
  
"We heard all about it!"  
  
Sora squirmed against the doorknob, which was trying to mold itself to his spine.  There were a limited number of things the girls could possibly have 'heard about' but he figured it was best to stall for time so his brain cells had a chance to wake up.  "About what?"  
  
The entity giggled, and somehow the sound was terrifying.  
  
"Oh, you're so cute when you're being shy!"  
  
"We _know_ Riku went to your dorm room after school last night!"  
  
The entity squealed at the mere thought of this.  
  
Sora reached back to grab the damn doorknob and keep it from impaling him--maybe he could use it for enough leverage to break free of the girl-crowd.  Although that would probably require coming in contact with all that _pink_.  Ugh.  "Well..."  Think, brain, think.  He seemed to recall something, a thought he'd had the other morning--what was it?  "Um... yeah, but--"  
  
"OH MY GOD he really did?"  
  
And again as one, the entity jumped up and down, hands clapping in glee.  
  
"So-ra," the leader sing-songed to him, leaning in and smiling sweetly.  She was wearing a cheerleader uniform today.  "Tell us... what wicked things did Riku do to you once he had you alone?"  
  
"Oh no," another of them shook her head adamantly.  "Riku would be slow and gentle--isn't that right, Sora?"  
  
"Uhm..."  Sora cast about wildly (and distinctly not thinking about what kinds of things the girls had in mind and how Riku might be at them), finally noting Roxas still standing to one side and observing this, fingers idly tapping the skateboard against his leg.  At Sora's look he immediately held his hands up and backed away, a definite 'Do _not_ get me involved in this, man' expression on his face.  "Well..."  
  
Aha!  
  
Sora's brain proudly presented him (finally) with his mental note concerning the girl entity, and how little tidbits of information would pacify them for a day, at least.  A bit of the truth usually worked.  What to tell them...  
  
"We... we did homework."  Sora figured that was a good start at least.  
  
"Aww, a study date!"  
  
"That's sweet."  
  
The entity cooed--Sora figured they were pleased.  This seemed to be going well.  
  
"And what about after, hmm?"  
  
"Did you kiss goodbye?"  
  
After--Riku had stroked his hair, slowly, like Sora had done to him at lunch.  After--well, Roxas had crashed into the room, but after that... close and warm, Riku's breath in his hair, and that almost-thought again about leaning up, just a bit.  Just enough to--  
  
He didn't think he wanted to share that part.  
  
"No."  He said it, and he knew the entity would be disappointed, but he'd managed a bit of a blush.  Maybe they'd be satisfied with that?  
  
Silence, for a moment.  Sora held his breath, waiting for whatever death by pink might be in store for him, and then--  
  
"Oh, Sora!"  
  
"So shy!"  
  
The entity gave a collective, "Aww."  
  
"It's okay to be nervous, Sora."  
  
"Riku really likes you, he'll be patient."  
  
"SOOOOO CUTE!"  
  
And this cued the chattering to start, and also the parting of the sparkly female barricade to let Sora go.  He wondered, just for a moment while squirming away from the doorknob and letting his skates carry him away, just what kind of fantasy world these girls had made up for him and Riku.  
  
...he decided not to ponder on that one any further.  
  
Roxas met him on the other side, giving the girl-entity a wide berth.  "Sorry, man, but... that's something else _entirely_."  
  
Sora glared sideways at him.  "'Don't worry, man, I've got your back,' he says, only he neglects to add, 'unless it involves girls covered in glitter who squeal in unison.'"  
  
"I knew I forgot to add the fine print."  
  
Sora shouldered him into some lockers and felt moderately better.  
  
  
  
  
  
On this particular day, Sora made an important discovery.  If he insisted and pleaded with his English teacher for a hall pass to go to the bathroom five minutes before the end of fourth period, he could easily avoid the after-class rush and arrive at Riku's lunch spot just as the bell rang.  No running, no dodging, no... _pinching_.  He was getting really, really sick of that.  
  
"You found Jimbo."  
  
"No."  Sora shook his head emphatically, holding up the ladybug for Riku's inspection.  "This is Dan.  Jimbo is more orange-ish."  
  
"Ah, right.  My mistake."  
  
Riku brought bananas and peanut butter cookies that day.  Sora chewed on both in rapid succession, silently focusing on his food and the ladybug crawling along the seam of his pant leg, and Riku's fingers as he continued working on his hemp necklace.  It was almost halfway done, and there was a large, blue glass bead sitting in his backpack.  Sora assumed it was waiting to become the centerpiece.  
  
When the food was gone, he found himself focusing on the spread of grass and fence just to Riku's side, still in the shade, but it looked warmer somehow.  And this late in the year the air was starting to chill.  It made perfect sense to want to sit closer to a warm body rather than uncomfortably alone on the roots of a tree.  This is what Sora told himself.  
  
He was about to move, too, catching Dan in one hand and checking the grass for the still-absent Jimbo, but just as he was about to scoot--  
  
"OH MY GOD SOMEONE GRAB HIM!"  
  
The voice was high and screechy and female--and sounded vaguely familiar--and it followed on the tail of a blond-and-flannel blur that was racing across the courtyard at top speed.  Sora blinked at the blur, and then at the furious gang of red-and-black-clad cheerleaders that were following it.  
  
Riku put a hand to his head and groaned.  
  
Roxas paused in the center of the courtyard, skateboard clutched possessively to his chest, gaze darting around wildly before his eyes lit upon Sora and Riku and their little lunch haven.  He turned to look back at the rapidly approaching cheerleaders--doom spelled out on their faces as surely as school-spirit facepaint--as though to indicate them before returning a hopeful gaze to the two boys under the tree.  
  
"Oh, no.  No, no, no."  Riku shook his head rapidly and waved his arms in front of him, a cutting gesture shooing Roxas and his cheerleader issues away--but the boy was already scrambling across the grass to dive behind Sora, finally rolling to a halt with a muffled huff.  
  
Sora settled Dan safely on his shirt and cast a look over his shoulder.  "Pep rally decorations?"  
  
Roxas grinned at him and chuckled darkly to himself.  
  
The pride of cheerleaders paused just at the edge of Riku's bubble, arms all similarly folded with identical enraged pouts on their faces.  They stared at Riku first--a show of respect of some kind, one would assume, as this was his spot--but he waved one hand dismissively and returned to his hemp project.  "I'm not involved in this.  Talk to _them_."  
  
The girls as a unit turned to Sora, and the skater hiding carefully behind him, blue eyes peeking over one shoulder.  The one in front--their leader, if the facepaint and glitter was any indication, clasped her hands together and smiled sweetly.  "Hi, Sora!"  
  
Oh, no.  It was, Sora realized, the girl-entity's leader, separate from the core unit but still powerful.  "Um.  Hi."  He tried for his best beaming smile and wondered if he did something like hold hands with Riku, maybe they would go away.  He looked to the side hopefully, but Riku had clearly cut himself off from this entire situation.  Even caught Sora's questioning look and shook his head in finality.  
  
Crap.  There goes plan A.  
  
"So, Sora.  You seem to have a strange growth on your back."  
  
He looked over his shoulder again, Roxas wriggling down further and hissing, "Defend your roomie, man."  
  
"Why, so I do," Sora replied, still beaming.  
  
"We'd be happy to take care of that for you."  The girl-entity cheerleader's smile was growing taut.  
  
"Oh, why is that, exactly?"  
  
Behind him, Roxas chuckled darkly.  Again.  
  
One of the other girls pressed forward suddenly.  "Have you  <i>been</i> to the gym today?  He--the _mascots_ \--they were--"  Her voice caught and she shuddered, shaking her hands as though to rid some kind of slime from her body.  
  
"It was gross!"  Another piped up.  "He hung it from the ceiling!"  
  
"And they're superglued together or something."  
  
Roxas chuckled some more and then ducked further behind Sora at the glares they were shooting him.  
  
Sora waved both hands in a placating gesture.  "Okay, I think I get the picture.  So.  Um.  If I hand him over, what exactly do you plan on doing with him?"  
  
"We'll take his skateboard."  
  
"And his pants."  
  
"And hang them both from the flagpole."  
  
Sora made a soft, puffing sound at this idea.  Roxas poked him in the spine.  "Negotiate for the board."  
  
"Um."  Sora considered this, and the sparkly leader-girl whose smile was now clearly a flat line across her mouth.  "We'll give you Roxas and his pants, but the skateboard stays with me."  
  
"Sweeten it, dammit," hissed in his ear.  
  
"And... um..."  Sora cast around absently, hand grabbing the nearest item and holding it up.  "Um.  Grape juice?"  
  
Roxas groaned, head dropping heavily onto Sora's shoulderblade.  "I'm doomed."  
  
The girls before them shifted, and the edges of Riku's bubble crackled with static.  "No deal."  
  
So much for plan B.  
  
"Eheheh."  Sora rubbed the back of his neck and tried for his cutest smile.  "Can I have a redo?"  
  
The girls collectively scowled, and Sora figured that was a no.  Plan C was dead, too.  
  
"We'll be visiting the principal now," the leader crooned, and there was nothing sweet about it.  "I'm sorry, Sora, but I'm afraid we may have to count you as an accomplice."  
  
Sora squeaked.  "But--"  
  
"Don't worry, you can hang out with your _growth_ during detention."  
  
"But I have a game tonight!"  He elbowed backwards blindly, catching Roxas in the ribs.  
  
"Ow.  What, _now_ you're selling me out?"  Roxas's voice was panicked.  "Sora, they'll take my board.  My _board_."  
  
"If I miss a game for detention they won't let me play for two weeks!"  
  
" _Sora!_ "  
  
The presence at his back suddenly vanished, with a noise that sounded vaguely like an 'eep'.  Replacing it, instead, was a warm, solid arm that snaked possessively around his waist.  
  
"Ladies," Riku said, very close to his ear, and his voice was like honey.  He was tucking himself up against Sora's side, other hand reaching down to grab Sora's and twine their fingers together.  "Could you possibly be convinced to just forget that this ever happened?"  
  
And oh, god, he was warm.  Sora should have moved to sit next to him sooner, because the rest of the world seemed unbearably chilly in comparison.  He turned his head, just enough to meet Riku's eyes and heard the words, whispered in his ear so low that no one else would hear--"Sorry about this."  
  
Just another show.  
  
The leader-girl's mouth fell open momentarily before her sweet smile returned.  "Oh, hi Riku.  I thought you weren't getting involved."  
  
"I've been moved to intervene."  Riku's chin settled comfortably on his shoulder, and Riku's thumb was tracing little circles against the palm of his hand.  And despite the words and the awareness that this was for them and not for him, the contact was slightly dizzying.  "See, I was planning on watching that game."  
  
"Oh."  The leader cooed, and the girls behind her giggled a little.  "That's very sweet of you."  
  
"Also, I think that Sora would be very upset if we let you take revenge on his friend."  Riku was lifting their tangled hands up, now, back of Sora's hand against his cheek, soft skin and oh so slight scratch of stubble.  Nuzzled his wrist, just a little.  "And we can't have that."  
  
Sora froze in place, caught between wanting to stop this and wanting to wait and see what happened.  Eyes fixed on that place where Riku's mouth was almost but not quite touching his skin.  Riku's arm tight around his waist and holding him warm against his side.  
  
And--right there, hot breath on his skin and just the barest brush of lips, trailing across the span of his wrist and he could feel distinctly that movement against the fine hairs there.  Shivering touch.  
  
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Sora was aware that his mouth had fallen open and his cheeks had gone hot, but he wasn't quite in the right frame of mind for berating his treacherous body.  
   
The girls were no longer unified--instead, they were now either staring wide-eyed, or whispering to each other and squealing softly with hands over their mouths.  The leader appeared the most pleased, hands clapped together gleefully in front of her face.  "Oh my... I think I'm rather in a forgiving mood now."  
  
Sora blinked, and blinked again while his brain tried to catch up to what had just happened.  Because Riku had just kissed his hand or something.  And what the hell, didn't people do that in like... Shakespeare and chick flicks?  Should ask Roxas, between him and his romance novels he probably knew.  
  
...not that he didn't like it, of course.  Riku's green eyes glittered at him from his shoulder, lips quirking into something like his teasing smirk--and he planted one last, quick, fleeting peck just on his knuckles before dropping their hands back to Sora's knee.  
  
Somewhere behind and to his side, Roxas rolled his eyes heavenward and promptly dropped onto his back.  
  
The girls had turned--this time as one--into a huddle to discuss the display of homoerotic cuteness and whether it merited a pardon.  Riku disentangled himself a bit from Sora, although staying sufficiently close to still appear boyfriend-like.  Sora was still staring at him.  
  
"Hey," Riku murmured.  
  
Sora grinned brightly, because that last bit really had been just for him.  "Hi."  
  
"Oh, would you _stop_ ," Roxas groaned from his unimportant place somewhere to the side.  "My teeth are going to rot out or something."  
  
The girls turned to face them abruptly.  "We have decided," the leader announced, clapping her hands yet again, "to let Sora off the hook."  
  
"Hooray?"  Sora offered.  He was still blushing a little.  
  
Roxas sat back up slowly, shifting just slightly to put Sora between himself and the cheerleaders.  "And?"  
  
"And, we have decided to let Roxas off the hook-- _if_ he cleans up his mess."  
  
" _What_.  No way, that was a masterpiece!  It took me hours to--"  
  
"While singing the alma mater," the leader clarified, sweet smile firmly in place.  
  
Roxas trailed off into silence, and the look of horror on his face kept his mouth occupied for several seconds after that, before he made a strange croaking sound and stuttered a protest.  "But--nobody actually _knows_ the alma mater!"  
  
"Not to worry.  We'll be there to coach you."  
  
Roxas immediately turned his look of horror upon Sora, clutching at his shoulder desperately.  "Dude.  Seriously.  They're gonna make me sing."  He leaned in a bit closer and his voice dropped to a whispered hiss.  "They're gonna make me _learn_ it!"  
  
Riku glared at him from around Sora's other shoulder.  "I think we've done all we can for you, Roxas."  
  
"But--"  
  
"Look at it this way," Sora smiled apologetically, "you keep your skateboard, and your pants."  
  
"They can have my pants, dammit, come on--"  
  
"We're waiting," the girls sing-songed.  In chorus.  
  
"Detention!  I'll take detention!  I'll take Saturday detention, even!"  Roxas continued clutching at Sora's shoulder, even after Riku waved the girls into his bubble to collect their delinquent.  "You can't do this to me!  If I come back wearing pink, I'll never forgive you!"  
  
Roxas might have said something about knowing where he slept, but it was muffled by the process of the cheerleaders dragging him away.  Riku and Sora sat side by side, watching until they disappeared around the corner of the building from which both parties had arrived.  
  
"Well, that was entertaining."  
  
"Uh huh."  Sora found himself leaning slightly towards Riku.  Into his shoulder, where it was warm.  Where he had intended to go sit before the fuss started.  He picked up Dan off his pant leg, where the poor insect had been huddling during the entire event.  
  
Riku shook his head and pushed his hair out of his face, considering the height of the sun in the sky and estimating how long they had until the bell rang.  "At this rate, you may actually make an honest man out of him."  
  
"Oh, hey."  Sora held up his hand triumphantly, little orange-ish bug crawling across it, somewhat frazzled and twitching its wings irritably but very much alive.  "Found Jimbo."  
  
"He's lucky Roxas didn't land on him."  Riku's arm tightened slightly around Sora's waist for just a moment, then he pulled back, scooting over to his backpack to gather up his hemp and beads.  "He's not allowed over here if he's going to abuse my ladybugs."  
  
Sora rolled his eyes at both the action and the tone--remembered what Roxas had said last night, and he'd come to the conclusion that they were both just being stupid, and possibly stubborn.  "You don't feel even remotely bad about letting those girls haul him off, do you?"  
  
"Nope."  And it was said with such finality that Sora thought better of discussing the subject any further.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora lived for this.  
  
Smell of asphalt baking in the sun, of freshly mown grass and the salt tang of ocean breezes and sweat.  The vibration of wheels under his feet and tape-wrapped wood against gloved palms.  A circle of eight and the shade in their center, off-beat sounds of labored breaths.  Arm around his shoulder, partly a friendly embrace and partly a rough headlock.  Low click of the tongue as silent blue-green eyes surveyed the court.  
  
 _Let 'em have the ball at the face-off, false sense of security; I'll catch their center from behind, pass it back to you.  Then it's straight up the middle, no distractions.  Wakka's got your back and Kairi's your wingman.  This game's in the bag._  
  
But it wasn't like that.  Not here.  
  
The air was thick and heavy with the smell of falling leaves and cold.  It whipped against his face as he moved, ball rattling against wood and the goalie sharp in his line of sight.  Red and black in one spectrum of vision, green and gold in the other.  
  
It should have been different--should have been bare-chested to the world with sweat trailing down his back by now, should have been surrounded by cabana shorts and high-cut tees and Kairi in her halter top and daisy dukes and Cloud in his wifebeater with sunglasses perched on his head.  Should have only come down to the gut instinct of who that was, coming up behind you; friend or foe.  Should know it by the smell of air and the sound of their skates.  
  
Sora could only watch the color-coding, now; glimpse of the negative at his side and he slammed into it instantly, without thinking--  
  
"Sora!  Roughing!"  The coach's voice was loud enough to carry across three states and over the top of the ref's whistle.  "Again."  
  
He laughed to himself on the way to the penalty bench--because it was funny, it really was, what he'd been reduced to.  Shadow of former glory.  
  
He still got to play, though, and no amount of color-coding or penalizing would have kept him away.  
  
Sora watched the game continue with that smile still on his face, a bit self-effacing, perhaps, but unapologetic.  He leaned back on his hands and looked across the court, past the blurs of movement and the chain link.  Riku was in the parking lot just beyond, sitting cross-legged on the hood of a car, chin propped on one hand.  His smile dropped slightly, running his tongue across his teeth.  Because he wasn't totally sure, but had he seen Riku there before, with that same car?  A month ago, maybe...?  
  
The sound of saliva hitting the ground in distaste was sharp behind him.  "Don't lose it just 'cause he's here.  You get me?"  The captain was stalking behind the bench, watching his team during a fill-in.  "Your focus drops, just once, and that's it."  
  
Sora grinned--not at the game or the court or the air in front of him, or even Riku--at something in the back of his memory, perhaps.  "See what the coach has to say about that."  
  
"Whatever.  I know all about Cali and your little pity party.  The only reason you're on this team to begin with is 'cause you fed the principal some sob story about wanting a second chance."  The guy sat beside him on the bench, in the exact reverse of Sora's pose.  "So don't think I don't know what to say to get you kicked off.  S'all I'm saying."  
  
Sora didn't respond, just raised his eyebrows, innocently, offering him a wide-eyed look.  
  
"Or, you know.  Break up with him or something.  I really don't care up until the point _you_ end up costing us a match."  The captain turned a dark scowl on him.  "All that clear enough, Sky-boy?"  
  
"You know," Sora responded with a bright, sunshine smile, leaning forward just a bit and tilting his head--because if this guy really knew the whole story he'd know better than to drop this kind of bullshit on him.  "I've pounded tougher guys than you into the pavement."  
  
The captain didn't seem to have a reaction to that.  Oh, he knew the whole thing, after all, and only _now_ started to think about it--paused where he sat with a blank expression, staring forward unblinking, until a whistle broke through the air.  He nudged Sora in the shoulder, standing to skate away.  "You're in."  
  
In all likeliness, Sora decided, taking position on the court and settling the stick in his hands, there would be no further conversation of that nature with the captain.  He considered, while shouldering a few defenders out of the way and racing to catch a pass, that he might ask the coach if he could play center.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku made a mental note, not that he was totally clear on what was going on to begin with, that Sora seemed to get penalized a lot.  He attributed this to the rough-and-tumble style the kid seemed to have, along with the sheer speed he moved with across the court.  Riku understood that part.  He watched it, burned it into his memory, and that was more than enough to make up for his hazy understanding of the rules.  
  
A noise eventually irritated the edges of his reverie, however.  The clatter and rumbling roll of a skateboard, thump of a foot propelling it along, and why Roxas thought he needed to come and bother him _now_ , of all times, Riku couldn't guess.  
  
Oh, wait.  There was that thing at lunch.  
  
Roxas paused beside his car, flipping the skateboard up into one hand and leveled him with a narrow glare that could have frozen Mexico.  
  
Riku blinked at it.  "So... what's up?"  
  
"I _know_ the alma mater," Roxas hissed, abruptly very close to the car and very much in Riku's face.  "I'm going to sing it for you, sometime.  Repeatedly."  
  
"Oh, look at me.  I'm terrified."  He deadpanned, shook his hair back, unimpressed.  "Look, I saved your ass, and your precious fucking skateboard.  You owe me big time."  
  
"I didn't ask for--"  
  
"Shut up."  Riku cast his own sidelong glare, hair falling back into its eternal funk over his eyes.  Roxas looked petulant, like the world wronged him rather than offered him the coddling it did in reality.  Damn punk.  "Don't think for a second that I did this for _you_.  I bailed Sora out and you were lucky enough to come along for the ride.  And I had to put him in a lousy-ass situation to do it."  
  
Roxas settled into a wicked half-smile.  "From the look on his face, I don't think he minded."  
  
"That's not the point.  I wasn't doing it for him, I was doing it for _them_ , and that makes all the fucking difference."  Riku stopped looking at the source of annoyance beside him and turned back to the court.  Sora was in motion again, dodging and flying low across the asphalt.  "Not that I expect you to understand that."  
  
For a long time there was no response, until the skateboard dropped rattling to the ground.  "Why are you such a goddamned prick?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  Riku shot a look back at him, then shook his head and asked patience from the empty sky and slammed his hands down on the hood on either side of himself.  "Honestly, Roxas, what the fuck?  Why do you _care_ at all?  Why the hell are you--you leaving notes in his locker and following him around school and--fuck, moving into the dorms to live with him?  What is it?  Are you waiting for the chance to bring the rest of the walls down around us or do you just want him for yourself?"  
  
Riku realized, too late, that he was yelling.  And that a few people in the parking lot had stopped to stare.  He checked the game and assured himself that it, at least, was continuing on without notice.  
  
He'd expected Roxas to be mad--scowling, maybe, fists balling up for a fight or possibly even pulling back a punch.  But the kid was just rolling his eyes, mouth open and head shaking in some kind of disbelief.  "Okay, first of all, Riku--I'm taken, not that you would know or care.  I'm not out to steal your little boyfriend.  Fuck."  Another shake of the head, Roxas stepping onto his board and rolling a bit from side to side.  "Secondly--man, not everyone in the world is as pissed off and resentful as you are."  
  
"Oh, you--"  
  
"No, _you_ shut the fuck up."  Roxas was leaning on the hood, eyes spitting blue sparks and the scowl was there, now.  "You can go on home to your room and spin _Pretty Hate Machine_ a few more thousand times and come back to school wrapped up tight in your little bubble of darkness that keeps everyone and everything in the goddamn world from getting too close to poor pathetic little you.  You just do whatever the fuck you want.  I don't care."  He shoved backwards suddenly, one foot back on his skateboard and turning like he intended this to be the last word.  Almost like he'd won, but the look across his shoulder was something else.  "I'm just here to make sure you don't kick his feet out from under him."  
  
Riku meant to say something to that.  Something rude and scathing and laced with epithets and bile at this little bitch--whoever the hell he thought he was, thought he knew who Riku was and that, that was what stung.  What made his teeth grit and his fingers curl into his palms.  
  
But it all stopped, suddenly, sudden rage draining away into something empty, because that--  
  
He couldn't have meant--  
  
And by the time Riku had a grasp on that, and maybe a response, Roxas was across the parking lot, quick flick of his feet to jump the skateboard onto the sidewalk, and fading away. ~~  
~~


	6. Under the Bridge

**6: Under the Bridge**

_August 1995_

Bright, Oregon sat in the bowl-shaped center of an irrigated patch of desert, just along the freeway as it dipped down out of the Blue Mountains and shot in a straight gray ribbon toward the Columbia River. Small as cities went, big enough for two McDonald's and small enough for a single high school, serving both the city and the surrounding county. The miles of mountains and sagebrush, irrigated farms and fence-lined ranchland, cattleguards on the freeway exits and a presumptive bank building to the west of downtown reaching a grand ten stories in height.

County High School sat in the bowl-shaped center of Bright, Oregon, sand-colored brick matching the faded summer brown of the desert grass that composed the fields surrounding it. Five low buildings and a well-lit football stadium, sweeps of green tennis courts and chain link lined asphalt, the faded and lined squares of parking lots surrounded by more utility fields of brown grass.

In the summer, in the spaces where the grass and weeds were high and brittle and unmown, when you walked a cloud of grasshoppers would spread to either side in your wake, quick to escape the impending crash of flip-flops on their heads. In the summer, Riku would cut through the field behind the dormitory just to watch them fly, flutter-buzz of wings all around, sand-brown insects to match the withered vegetation and the school and the land surrounding; sandy earth gave way to brown hills, blue peaks of mountains behind that. Dead heat of the sun on his head and a Gatorade bottle sweating in his hand.

The first time Riku saw _him_ was on this sort of afternoon in the dead of August, while he was on his way to swim team tryouts. At least, he had been on his way there, but somewhere along the rows of chain link that surrounded the asphalt courts used for dodgeball and basketball and any number of other things, he stopped in his tracks.

Because, you see, there was someone on that court. Someone in rollerblades and jean shorts--the long ones with suspenders that the fashion-savvy wore only over one shoulder, although hadn't that gone out years ago?--and a No Fear t-shirt, with a hockey stick and an orange ball and a head of spiky hair the color of milk chocolate.

Why the kid felt the need to look and dress like he was still in junior high--or younger--Riku couldn't guess. But that was beside the point, anyway.

_He_ was in motion, had a stick and a ball and was flying across the court at top speed, no helmet, no pads, nothing but thin summer clothes and a sheen of sweat between himself and the air and the five-grit asphalt beneath him. He was practicing with himself, Riku realized--passing the ball and then skating sideways to receive it, then reversing in the same manner--then finally skidding on the edge of his skates to score a goal against the chain link on the far side of the court, catching himself perfectly with one hand and spinning back upright.

He kept his own running commentary throughout this entire process, then wriggled in his own victory dance after making the imaginary score, waving to the imaginary crowd which was certainly going wild in the imaginary stands.

Riku caught a glimpse of a soft face, bright blue eyes and a brilliant smile. Something in profile.

The kid never seemed to realize that he had a very real audience, continuing on with his own practice routine surrounded by only the imaginary specters of teammates and opponents and cheering fans. He didn't seem to be built with the same inhibitions that normal teenagers had, of being caught doing something stupid or uncool or, heaven forbid, downright childish.

He was made of light and energy. Riku wanted to capture that, hold it tight against him and nibble it until it shivered and gave in.

Riku was late for tryouts, but fortunately the coach had always liked him.

 

 

_September 1995_

He'd figured the kid he saw on the hockey court was probably a freshman--based solely on his size and the way he dressed, and the fact that Riku had never seen him before. It was a fair enough assumption, and he didn't give it much more thought than that, being far too occupied with the idea of blue, blue eyes and tanned skin and whether or not he dared try to seek the kid out. Whether he could be content to just watch from a distance and indulge in a dream or two.

However, on the first day of school, senior year, first period, Riku was toeing his backpack underneath his lab desk in chemistry, the ho-hum of routine already settling in and the inevitable senioritis making its presence known in the abrupt desire to call off the rest of the day--and _he_ wandered right in. Checked his seat assignment with the teacher and smiled absently at nothing while walking back to his own desk.

The idea of playing hooky was instantly dismissed.

Riku caught a glance back occasionally, under the guise of doing something else--reaching down to get something from his backpack, or borrowing a test tube from the desk behind him, or wandering back to the sinks to wash up.

Up close, his eyes were even brighter. And his smile was infectious. And his hair was begging to have fingers run through it.

Riku figured maybe he was a sophomore.

 

 

The sophomore theory fell flat on the same day, fourth period, senior English, while Riku was copying the semester schedule from the blackboard into his notebook--and _he_ wandered in again, checked the seat assignments again, and this time plopped directly into the desk right behind Riku.

Riku spent a long and torturous fifty minutes doing anything at all aside from looking back.

Two minutes before the bell rang, while taking down an assignment the teacher was writing, he felt something very like the eraser of a number-two pencil prodding him in the back, and a high, soft voice that was somehow very close to his ear hissed, "You're too tall, man."

He did turn his head, then, just enough to look back, see _him_ leaning over his desk and grinning apologetically, pencil twirling between his fingers.

What he wanted to say was, 'You're beautiful.' What he actually said was, "Uh, sorry," accompanied by a slouch down in his seat.

"Sora," was the reply, once again leaning forward and far, far too close to his ear. That was his name. Of course that was his name--it was too perfect for him to not be.

And while he thought about this the pencil poked him again, and he remembered to turn back, just enough, a profile look because meeting him with both eyes would probably be dangerous. "Riku. Can you see the board now?"

"Yeah, thanks."

His smile was warm, like an embrace. Riku thought, just for a moment, that it might have been meant solely for him.

 

 

_October 1995_

He only drove the Tercel occasionally--mostly because the car itself would only actually drive occasionally--but when he did, he preferred to park in the back nine, under the trees, which incidentally faced the hockey court dead-on.

Most of the school teams practiced at the same time, which was unfortunate--but on this particular day, the coach ended swim practice early, and the hockey team had a game. Varsity was just opening the match when Riku walked out to toss his things in the car--he paused, naturally, and considered for a moment, then crawled onto his hood to sit and watch.

Sora was hard to miss--brown spikes stuck out under his helmet, and he spent an unfortunate amount of time warming the bench. Finally, though, sometime during a lull in the game, the coach waved him onto the court.

It was possible that no one, least of all the players on the opposing team, had any level of expectation for the way that Sora moved. He was too low, too fast, he couldn't be blocked and couldn't be pinned down. He knocked down at least two guys who were twice his size. He only made a few passes before the score, then smiled at the goalie and his opponents while skating back to the bench, as though he were mischievously sorry that his team had scored against them.

Sora lived in the dorms; Riku had discovered this by some random overheard chance, either in the locker room or somewhere in the hallway. He'd never given the dormitory much thought before. Old building--it had been a boarding house once and a hotel sometime after that and once it was sufficiently old and worn down enough it was sold to the school district so the kids from the county wouldn't have to endure two-hour bus rides to attend class.

He was pretty sure Sora didn't live in the county, though. He didn't dwell on that thought much; he thought instead of what window might belong to him, and had cheesy romantic notions of tossing pebbles at it on a night when the moon was so full it lit up the desert as silver-bright as day. Thought about long drives on back roads in the night, what Sora might look like in the dark, washed in silver. What Sora's mouth might feel like under his.

Busy with his staring and his thoughts, Riku didn't notice that a pair of red-and-black-clad visitors had arrived at his Tercel until one of them--the one Riku was pretty sure was the hockey team captain--cleared his throat.

Riku offered them a blank expression, partially because his mind was in far too much bliss to be concerned, and partially because he wasn't really surprised.

"Who the fuck are you staring at?"

"Hmm." Riku made a show of considering the question. "Maybe it was _you_."

The captain's buddy looked like he probably wanted to deck him for that, but the pair of them were smart enough to keep their distance. Good boys, listened to the right rumors. "That's _my_ team out there, asshole, and they don't play for yours." Captain-boy smirked at his own cleverness--that was in bad taste. "So get the fuck out of here and stay the fuck away from them."

"Someone's jealous." Riku smirked back and slid off his hood--would've been nice to sit a while longer, even if only to stare at Sora while he kept the bench warm, but if captain-boy was gonna get his panties in a twist about it, he might as well get home in time for dinner.

There was almost a scuffle, but the two ultimately left, muttering those nastier words under their breaths, and just as Riku was pulling out of the parking space (and he only popped the clutch once this time) he thought he saw Sora turn his head, frowning at his teammates and watching Riku drive away.

 

 

He had Sora on his back in the middle of the hockey court, and his mouth was soft.

The sun was hot on Riku's neck, and the asphalt under his hands and knees was warm with it, rough and gritty and probably filthy, but he didn't care because there was chocolate hair between his fingers, and Sora's hands were fisted in his shirt, and his tongue was doing things that would probably cause permanent brain damage.

Riku's hands slid underneath that cute little black-and-red uniform, over sweat-cooled skin, and Sora arched up beneath him, into his hands, into his hips, gasped against his mouth, and Riku pulled him tight and felt that shiver with his entire body. Riku's mouth trailed down to taste the salt on Sora's neck and heard it, little breath of a moan against his ear.

"Riku..."

And Sora's fingers in his hair, now, sliding down his back, and Riku pressed down until the body beneath him _writhed_ \--

"Earth to Riku."

And then everything suddenly looked a lot more like the drama club's dressing room. Which was where he was, in fact, curled onto the bench in the corner beside the wig racks, the seat generally--if not officially--reserved for him.

Unfortunately, there was no Sora anywhere in the vicinity.

There was, however, a wickedly grinning Tidus standing on a stool, something strange and puffy in the process of being pinned around his waist. "Ah, there you are. Welcome back--ouch! Watch the ass! I'm kind of fond of it." He glared over his shoulder at Selphie, who made a valiant attempt at smiling apologetically with pins in her mouth. "Seriously, though, Riku," he straightened and tugged his shirt down, folding his arms in some kind of defense of pride--not that it helped with yards of puffy fabric around him, "crushing on a jock? You have a death wish or something?"

Riku rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, and would much prefer summoning his hockey court fantasy back up over having this conversation with Tidus. Or having _any_ conversation with Tidus, for that matter--but the gang of females in glitter makeup wouldn't follow him in here. "Good to know the rumor mill is still operational."

"At full capacity." Tidus nodded sagely and lifted one arm so Selphie could pin the fabric at his hip. "Haven't heard the school buzzing about you this much since... well, yeah. Anyway, the point is--owowow, Selphie!--the point is, you're better off letting it go now, while you still can. Jocks are straight by definition. Even when they're not." He paused to lower his arm and eye Selphie as she moved across the front of whatever garment the puffy thing was.

Riku offered him a glare, then shifted it to the door and wondered if the femme-Borg had given up and left yet. "You don't even know which one you're talking about."

"Jocks as a species are predictable. Even if he wants you, and you'd luck out there if he actually admits to it, the most you'd get is a few one-nighters. Which, I'm guessing, isn't what you--OUCH, woman! There're valuable items down there, you know."

Riku smirked just a little at that. "Speaking from experience?"

Tidus folded his arms again in a gesture of finality. "A gentleman does not discuss his romances in polite company."

"JV football captain," Selphie mouthed to him around her pins.

"Ignoring that, however." Tidus nodded to himself and visibly relaxed when Selphie moved on to his other hip. "Who is this guy, anyway? The whole school is dying to know, Riku, our esteemed outest of the out. Does your inner circle not deserve to be the first?"

"You're not my inner circle. You're the people who bother me while I'm hiding."

"Whatever. So, who is it?"

Riku rolled his eyes and uncurled on the bench, keeping one knee up to prop an elbow on. "Sora."

To his credit, Tidus sputtered twice before saying anything coherent. "That transfer student?" He paused, mouth still open, until Riku nodded and Selphie stuck him with another pin. "OW. I didn't know you were the small-and-cute type, man."

"Whatever. I think you're wrong." Riku was positive, in fact. "He talks to me, you know. The rumors don't bother him."

"Ah... I'd be willing to bet that it's more likely he just doesn't _know_ , Riku." Tidus was hard to take seriously with one arm flung out to the side. "They call him Sky-boy for a reason."

"Because that's what his name means?"

"No, because that's where his _head_ is. And how the hell did you know that, anyway?"

Riku shrugged, defensively shrinking closer to the wall. "Looked it up."

"You've got it bad." Tidus shook his head and dropped his arms in time with one last hiss at Selphie. "Let it go, man. I'm telling you. _Jock_. If you wanted small and cute you should have snatched up Roxas while you had the chance."

Riku snorted. "Roxas wasn't interested, he was just playing me up for his buddies."

Tidus blinked again, then shrugged. "If you say so, fine. Just don't come back here crying to me, or I'll seriously make you join the club."

"Not a chance." Riku stood, finally--the girls had to have cleared off by now--shrugging into his backpack. "I'm not an exhibitionist like you."

Selphie hopped up before he left, pausing just behind him at the door, mouth free of pins, now. "Riku?" Her arms clasped behind her back, and she smiled widely. Dark apology eternally present behind her eyes. Riku wondered, often, if it would always be there; if he'd meet her again at their ten or twenty or fifty-year class reunion and it would still, still be there.

_"I'm so sorry, Riku."_

"Things are good," he assured her, flash of a smile that was the closest he could get to his former self, but she recognized it anyway.

Riku left the dressing room and went to swim practice--and some time later, on an entirely different day, before the first bell rang, Sora would appear at his locker covered in sparkling heart-shaped confetti with questioning blue eyes and mouth drawn in confusion, and Riku would figure that Tidus was right about one thing, at least.

He had it bad.

 

 

_November, 1995_

Riku offered him a ride home, and being rather the worse for wear after what ended up being a grueling hockey game, Sora accepted. He thought, later, that it was probably for the best that he not ride in Riku's car any more often than necessary.

It was a classic first-car car. Little beat-up Toyota hatchback the color of apartment walls after someone spent ten years smoking in it. Nicotine-stain yellow, that had to be a tough color to market. It had fuzzy dice and a sagging roof and fifteen-year-old bumper stickers peeling off the fender, only one side mirror and a standard transmission--the latter of which Riku didn't seem to have a full grasp of. He pushed and flung and tugged and wriggled at the stick shift with something approaching practiced knowledge, but somehow the car always seemed to propel itself in short, sudden bursts that left Sora with the impression that they were going to crash headlong into whatever surface or object was nearest at any given moment. There was nothing to hold on to, either, so he just clung to the shoulder strap of his seatbelt and smiled widely and prayed that his imminent death would be painless.

Fortunately, the dorm was only a few blocks away.

"So. Um." Sora eyed the stick shift warily, even after Riku pulled the parking brake to make sure the car didn't go anywhere on its own. Sora was beginning to consider the possibility that it might be possessed. "You... want to come over on Sunday?"

Riku paused for a moment, turned sideways with one arm resting on the steering wheel and the other on the backrest of his seat, green eyes watching Sora's face studiously, mouth just slightly open, just enough he could see a hint of teeth behind his lips. And Sora realized, with an abrupt halt that made his stomach lurch, that his almost-thought wasn't _almost_ anymore. It was there, full and round and bright in the center of his mind; it involved breath and lips and tongues and wandering hands and his fingers in Riku's hair. It was so real and present that he wasn't sure if he wanted to flee in terror or climb over the parking brake skates and all and see what would happen if he did it.

"Yeah." Riku smiled--the small one, the one Sora was starting to think was the _real_ one--and he had to backtrack to remember that it was a response to his question and not an invitation to crawl into his lap. "Any particular time?"

"Ah... whenever you feel like it?"

Riku chuckled at that, and Sora noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit when he laughed. "I'm pretty sure dates are supposed to be more specific, but that's fine by me." He grabbed a pen off the visor suddenly, reaching out a hand. "Here."

Sora offered his palm, tongue against his lips in more of a nervous gesture, now, and Riku wrote the number on the underside of his arm, in the fleshy spot right below his wrist. It tickled.

"I'll be home from the meet by five tomorrow, probably. Usually doesn't take that long but this one's out of town." Riku's gaze flickered up to his face and then away, and then back. "So, call me then?"

Something bounced eagerly in Sora's stomach and his smile was--giddy. Yes, definitely giddy. "Okay."

And they both sat there for a minute, staring at each other, as neither was entirely sure what to do next. Eventually, though, Riku tilted his head and looked past him, and Sora turned enough to see the front steps of the dorm, and the front window, and--yes, those curtains were definitely moving. "Ah, okay. I'll see you on Sunday, then." Sora pushed the door open and was about to lean to get out when--

Ghost of lips, right at the base of his temple where it dipped down to become cheek. Riku lingered there for a moment, nose brushing against his hair, before drawing away and settling back in his seat. And when Sora stepped out and closed the door he just smiled, replaced his pen in the visor and released the parking brake, letting the car jerk forward like a dog off it's leash and speed away.

 

 

He hadn't seen Roxas in the brief amount of time between when he'd arrived back in the room and dumped his skates and backpack and other detritus of the school week and the point at which one of his teammates arrived to drag him away to the traditional post-game pizza party. He had a vague memory that maybe the shower was running, but having barely been in the room for two seconds he couldn't be sure.

By the time a carfull of raucous hockey players dropped him off, it was well past dark and far into night, and when he walked into the dorm room the window was wide open, framing Roxas in the tree branch outside of it just as it had the first night the boy had come here.

This time, however, he was puffing on a cigarette and talking on his cell phone. Sora took this in for a moment and then shrugged privately, set the cardboard box he was carrying on his desk and tossed his jacket into the wardrobe.

"Yeah, I heard you. My roommate's home." Roxas's voice drifted through the window as he approached. "Hm, I dunno. I'll ask." He leaned slightly towards Sora, phone held discreetly against his neck and a flash of a smirk on his face. "Kiss him yet?"

" _What?_ "

"That's a no," Roxas informed his phone, leaning back against the bole of the tree and flicking his spent cigarette off into the night. "Beats me. I told him to go for it."

Sora rolled his eyes, pushed away from the window and promptly flung himself face down on his bunk. When Roxas climbed back inside and pushed the window shut, however, he peeked out over his arm.

"Yeah." Roxas paced two steps to the side and leaned back against the window frame. "Well, he's _always_ been a dumbass." Scratch of fingers through his hair. "Mm-hm, I remember." Long, still pause while he listened to the phone talk. Long pause that ended with him rubbing the back of his neck, tilting his head toward the floor to hide something vaguely pink on his cheeks and mutter, "S-stop..."

Oh, _really_.

Roxas paced over to his desk, back to Sora, and listened another few minutes. Then he... _laughed_. Nothing like his usual chuckle, it was actually... _happy_? "Yeah, okay. Oh, whatever, you know I will." He flopped back in his chair and he was _smiling_. Not his half-smile or his cocky smirk or his evil Christmas-morning grin. It made the air around him glow. Sora frowned and wondered if this should be alarming. "Okay. Okay. Bye." He flipped the phone closed and tossed it onto his desk, leaning back in the chair with his hands folded behind his head, and stared at the ceiling for a good minute or so before even noticing that Sora was watching. The smile on his face didn't seem to realize that it was there. "What?"

Sora cackled a little into his pillow. " _Someone_?"

The smile vanished abruptly and Roxas waved one hand dismissively to dispel the glow in the air around him. "I said that was hypothetical."

"You were _glowing_." Sora lifted his head to look directly at him and wrinkled his nose. "Like some girl all, 'Oh, my heart is all aflutter'," Sora pressed both hands to his chest dramatically and mocked a falsetto voice, rolling onto his back and beseeching the mattress above him. "'Wherefore is my prince, that he might come and clasp me in his manly arms--'"

"Sora--" Roxas offered a growl of caution, but it went unheeded.

"Seriously, now I know why you _really_ read all those cheesy romance novels."

"You are _so_ dead." Roxas muttered, and then he pounced.

For a few minutes there was something like a whirlwind of elbows, knees and pillows taking up the majority of space on Sora's small bunk, but as abruptly as the tussle began, Sora found himself in a headlock, arms cleverly pinned and Roxas chuckling in his ear.

And then, tragically, he started singing.

"Oh County High, we pledge to thee--"

Sora's eyes widened and he squirmed desperately, heels kicking against the mattress. "Noooooo, not the alma mater!"

"Our faith and love and lo-yal-ty--"

"Wait, wait! Time out!"

Roxas offered him a blessed pause. "Why?"

"Just--lemme go, okay?"

"You have two seconds." Roxas released him and sat back on his heels, arms folded and prepared to resume the song at any second.

Sora tried to placate him with a smile, but it clearly wasn't working, so he quickly dove across the bed to grab the cardboard box off his desk. He presented it carefully to Roxas like a silver platter to a king, head bowed. "I brought you pizza."

Roxas considered this for a moment, one finger tapping against his chin, before taking the box from Sora. "I accept this peace offering."

Sora let out a long breath, dropping forward until his forehead hit the mattress. "Oh, thank god."

"But I'm not sharing." Roxas nodded to himself and promptly stood, balancing on the edge of the mattress and tossing the box onto the top bunk, then grabbing the railing and launching himself up after it.

Once the bed stopped shaking, Sora righted himself and sighed, rubbing one hand through his hair, and--what was that on his arm?

Oh, shit.

He jumped off the bed and raced over to the phone, grabbing a pen off his desk en route and immediately copied the number on his wrist onto the phone list. It was barely visible now, smeared from handwashing and what was probably pizza grease, but still just legible enough. Sora sighed again in relief.

"What, he just _now_ gave you his phone number?" Roxas asked around a mouthful of pepperoni, elbows on his pillow and a paperback open in his free hand. "Weak."

Sora ignored him and grinned to himself, counting eighteen hours until he could dial that number tomorrow night, writing in _Riku_ in front of it, right below Roxas's name. The only blue on a list of black.

 

 

Sora watched the headlight trail across his wall, starting at the door and curving slowly before spinning away over Roxas's desk and then vanishing. The sound of the motor outside dissipated back into the slow and steady chirp of crickets and the slow and steady breathing of his roommate five feet above him. Sora blinked in the darkness and clutched his pillow tighter, shifting and relaxing comfortably again into his blankets and, for the fifth time in the last half-hour, tried closing his eyes again.

Within a moment the phantom sensations were back--warm body close against his, breath trailing over his neck, hands on his back and a mouth ghosting across his cheek--closer--mm--

Sora opened his eyes, blew out a huff of air and frowned at the dark room in general. Okay, brain, we have established the desire to kiss Riku. Now it's time to sleep. Really.

He punched his pillow and re-situated it behind his head, rolling onto his back and shifting his shoulders into the mattress, settling in once more, closing his eyes once more.

Only that just made it worse, because now there was a warm weight over him, knee slipping between his and--okay, that was a little further than he wanted to ponder on just yet, but--there was a hand in his hair, stroking in small circles and a soft mouth... slowly... oh god.

Sora opened his eyes and bit his lip just in time to restrain a small, pathetic whimper. That would have been embarrassing, as he was certain that no matter _how_ deeply asleep Roxas was, he would have woken just in time to hear that and tease him incessantly for it.

Therefore, it made perfect sense to him to wake Roxas up in retaliation. Never mind that he hadn't actually done anything except in theory.

Sora poked at the mattress above him with his big toe. "Hey." His response was a muffled noise, so he poked again. "Roxas."

Shifting on the top bunk as Roxas moved enough that his face was no longer mostly covered by pillow, and therefore capable of speaking. "Muh."

"You awake?"

"So-ra." The name itself was a protesting groan, followed by a thud, presumably of Roxas beating his own head against his pillow in protest, or possibly to escape this nonsense. "You do this to me every night, you know."

"Do what?"

"Poke me and wake me up to answer some stupid question."

Sora smiled and nudged the mattress one more time. "I always thought we had this kind of mentorship thing going on. Sorta."

"Except when you kicked me."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I didn't kick you tonight."

Another groan and Roxas propped himself out of his pillow again. "Okay, fine, what do you want?"

"Have you ever kissed a boy?"

Something that sounded like a squawk came from the top bunk, followed immediately by the sound of Roxas coughing on the noise before finally catching his breath. "Where the hell did _that_ come from?"

"Well... uh..." Largely, Sora figured, because that was the entirety of what was on his brain that particular night.

"I get it." Roxas chuckled, turning the tides on him, teasing lilt to his voice. "Finally gonna kiss your boyfriend, huh?"

"He's not my--"

"Sora. I'm coming down." Roxas announced this just as the bed lurched precariously, giving Sora a bare second to squirm backwards and give him a place to land. Which Roxas did, rather ungracefully, just where Sora's feet had been. He folded his legs and yawned, rubbing one hand through his hair which, after a shower and an hour or so of sleep, stuck out in every direction in much the same way as Sora's. "Okay, look. He walks you home every day." Roxas began ticking off his points by finger. "You eat lunch together every day. He comes to your hockey games, you have study dates, you have his phone number, you pass notes in English _and_ lest we forget he went all Casanova on your hand in front of the cheerleaders today. He's your boyfriend."

Sora blinked at Roxas's ticked-off fingers, which were now waggling in front of him for emphasis. "That's... very convincing."

"I'm never wrong." Roxas lowered his hands and nodded in assurance of this fact. "So," he smirked a bit, propping his chin on one elbow, "what exactly is the problem? You don't want to kiss him?"

"Well..." Sora tugged absently at his sheet, twisting it between his hands. "I mean, I _want_ to, but--"

Roxas's eyebrows crept up his forehead. "Never kissed anyone before?"

"Of course I have!" Sora slammed the poor abused sheet down in his lap, indignant.

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah. Okay. Um. One person. And she--well, it was weird. Let's not talk about that."

"Right." He could see Roxas mentally storing that away for later torment. Sora wondered if he had randomly labeled piles or a proper filing cabinet. "So, you're hung up on having never kissed a guy before."

"Um. Yeah, basically."

Roxas leaned back abruptly, shoulders shrugging as he propped himself on both hands. "You know, Sora, sometimes I think you're a tough guy, then you come up with random naive issues like this and I'm not so sure."

Sora frowned--not really a scowl so much, just thoughtful. Picking at a loose thread and wondering if his masculinity should be offended by that statement. "It's not like I've done this before. Dating, I mean. _Anyone_."

"So what makes Riku so special?" Roxas asked it with kind of a pointed look, eyebrows up and questioning. "Because if this is really just for show, you've already pushed it too far. So, either keep going or backpedal but don't sit here and stall. You can be real or fake but you can't be both, right?"

Sora wondered, strangely and abruptly, how often Roxas took his own advice. He had that same feel to him now as he had the day they met, that disenchantment coupled with world-weary truths. He didn't have to think too hard about them, either; the concepts on the couch lined right up with the words. "Right."

"Good, cause you're not fooling anyone." Roxas nodded and leaned forward, poking Sora in the forehead. "Don't." Poke. "Stress." Poke. "You like him, right? So kiss him. It's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, yeah."

"G'night, dork." Roxas swung back onto his own bunk, instantly settling in and almost as instantly back to his pillow and steady, shallow breathing.

Sora snuggled under his own blankets, finally tired enough that his brain gave up on kissing fantasies and slowly lulled him into sleep. Just as he reached that edge between wake and dreams, however, he realized that Roxas had expertly dodged his initial question.

That little bastard.


	7. Loser

**7:  Loser**  
  
The parking lot that lay in a flat sheaf of faded black alongside and partially behind the dormitory was really too large for its intended purpose.  Although there were roughly thirty teenagers in the building, of which roughly half were both old enough and in possession of licenses, roughly half again of _that_ actually owned cars and preferred to keep them at the dorm.  It was only two blocks from the school, after all, though there was at least one person who drove that distance anyway, because walking to school just was _not_ as cool as driving--and furthermore as both school and dorm sat nestled among sleepy one-way downtown streets harboring whatever kind of shop or diner or entertainment a teenager could want, there was ultimately no need for a vehicle.  
  
Nevertheless, there were ten cars parked in various unrelated positions across the lot.  At the front, nearest to the entrance, was the dorm mother's sedan and the school-use van which got not much use at all.  Opposite those, across the superfluous but requisite handicapped parking spaces, was a smart Metro with the school emblem in the back window, and a Rabbit on its last legs but still valiantly pulling duty for its owner in the rare event that it was removed from the parking lot.  These belonged to the third and second floor RA's, respectively.  The fourth floor RA supposedly had a motorcycle, although no one had ever seen it to verify this.  
  
Opposite this row, catching the falling leaves from the wall of trees belonging to the business next door, a dented white Corolla occupied the corner space nearest the street.  An impressively gigantic Nova with a sagging roof was parked intimately close next to it.  Precisely three spaces away from the Nova was a well-tended F-10, painted black as night, chrome polished to gleaming.  
  
The remaining three cars were late-model hatchbacks in various states of disrepair, and their owners took it in turns to park in the back portion of the lot, as far as possible from each other, like some bizarre version of musical chairs.  It was entirely possible that as each owner awoke in the morning they would go and count the number of spaces between their car and the other two, and whomever had the shortest would owe the winner a box of Twinkies.  Or something.  
  
But all of this is beside the point.  
  
On a Saturday afternoon, the parking space in the furthest corner of the lot was occupied by a boombox.  Which, of course, had no business taking up a parking space for any reason, aside from the fact that its owner had placed it there.  Shortly thereafter, its owner's roommate placed a cassette in the tape deck and pressed the play button.  
  
And shortly thereafter, both owner and roommate were taking up roughly three parking spaces, circling each other on wheeled contraptions that were definitely not of the motor vehicle sort, and randomly batting a small, squishy object back and forth between them.  The boombox had no business knowing the why's and what's of this scenario, and therefore went on blissfully playing _Check Your Head_ without giving it any further thought.  
  
Because electronics can't think, anyway.  Duh.  
  
"Yeah, well," Sora intoned and flicked the hackey-sack back into the air with the tip of his hockey stick, skates sliding over the pavement in a backwards arc, "that's because you never _asked_."  
  
"Okay, fine."  Roxas hit the bag with his elbow, then balanced precariously on his skateboard to kick it back to Sora with one foot.  "Where did you used to live?"  
  
"Cali."  
  
"Aha."  Roxas nodded triumphantly and barely missed his next pass, catching it on the inside of his arm and swatting it back with his wrist.  "That explains the tan."  
  
Sora made an expert head-butt, passing back with the heel of his stick.  "Yup."  
  
"So--LA?  Frisco?  San Diego?"  
  
"Long Beach."  
  
Roxas let out a whistle, juggling the hackey-sack with one foot for a moment before regaining control and kicking it back, pushing his skateboard back into motion.  "Nice.  So, why'd you leave if you just had your senior year left and were going to live in the dorms anyway?  You'd think your folks would've let you stay."  
  
Sora's laugh was kind of sheepish, and he almost landed on his ass for catching the bag with the toe of his skate instead of something that wasn't wheeled and holding him upright.  "Well, there was kind of a... problem... with my old school."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Long story."  
  
"I'm listening."  Roxas bounced the bag gently back and forth from arm to arm as though to prove he could hold out however long it took.  
  
"Short version: I had to transfer to have any hope of actually graduating this year."  Sora rolled his eyes and brought himself to a halt, leaning on his stick and watching as Roxas consecutively bounced the little round beanbag higher and higher.  "S'no big deal, really.  Mom might not be home much, but she'd still miss me if I stayed behind."  
  
Roxas made a particularly high hit off his elbow.  "Dad?"  
  
"Back east."  
  
Roxas didn't have anything to say to that, at least for several minutes as the game resumed, and the two continued circling in a wide loop, never straying far from the corner and the boombox, leaves dropping off the trees to litter around it and them.  "How old were you?"  
  
"Six."  
  
"Got me beat.  I was twelve."  
  
Anything further went a little beyond the range of general boy discussion.  There was something like a nod, something like understanding, and then the game took over again.  
  
"Ever wonder why so many sex metaphors have to do with baseball?"  Roxas asked, totally randomly, after ten minutes or so of skating and cackling--mostly at him tripping up on his skateboard and the hackey-sack landing smack in the middle of Sora's hair.  
  
Sora sputtered momentarily at the non-sequitur before laughing and barely catching the bag with his stick.  "Well--actually, come to think of it..."  
  
"Exactly.  I mean, there's the whole first base, second base, etcetera thing.  And then the whole--" Roxas popped the bag up from where it almost hit the ground with his skateboard, flipping it up with a heel and juggling the bag back to a reasonable height with the insole of one foot, "--yanno, 'playing for the other team' thing--"  
  
"Pitcher and catcher."  
  
"Scoring.  List goes on."  
  
"That's disturbing, now that I think about it."  Sora bounced the bag on the hockey stick a few times before passing again.  "Maybe I should go to more baseball games, discover the reasoning behind it."  
  
"I have a suspicion it has something to do with a bunch of guys running around in skin-tight pants."  
  
"Yeah, but they do that in football, too, and that's even _more_ homoerotic."  
  
"There's no explanation."  
  
"See, this is why I play hockey."  Sora grinned and lifted the object in his hand as though to demonstrate.  "Nothing suggestive at all about playing with sticks and balls."  
  
Quiet and soft laughter for a few moments, bars of music in the background and a little round bag perpetually in the air.  Sora thought this was a nice moment, and so naturally, he had to ruin it somehow.  "So, I've been thinking."  
  
"Don't hurt yourself."  Roxas cackled and bounced the hackey-sack off his knee.  
  
"About your _someone_."  
  
"Nothing inappropriate, I hope.  I'm a jealous guy."  
  
Sora skated around him and back into his loop, as Roxas was entertaining himself bouncing the bag back and forth from his forehead to his elbows, skateboard wavering precariously beneath his feet.  "The least you could do is tell me his name, you know."  
  
Roxas opened his mouth to provide another snarky response, but somewhere in the middle of this his brain caught up with Sora's statement and he promptly lost balance, stumbling to the side as the skateboard overturned clattering on the pavement.  The hackey-sack hit the ground with a sad little thud, and for a moment there was only the sound of the music in the background and the dry orange leaves rattling in the trees.  
  
"How'd you figure it out?"  Roxas had righted himself but had yet to look up from the pavement.  
  
"Well for starters, there's the constant avoidance of pronouns."  Sora grinned and resumed skating, circling a figure-eight around his roommate.  "Then the other night when I accused you of sleeping with Riku, you just said that no, you hadn't, when you could have just said _I'm straight, idiot_ and ended the whole thing."  
  
Roxas had one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his forehead and tugging absently on the fringe of blond bangs covering it.  "Dammit."  
  
"Then last night you so _expertly_ avoided my question, and I was sure."  Sora came to a halt directly in front of him, peering at the downturned face.  "You could have just told me, you know.  Not like I'm in any position to judge."  
  
When Roxas looked up, his teeth were bared, but he didn't look angry.  There was a kind of desperation in his voice when he grabbed the collar of Sora's t-shirt and curled a fist in it.  "You can't tell anyone."  The hand in Sora's shirt was shaking.  "You understand, Sora?  Not.  _Anyone_.  Especially not Riku."  
  
"I wasn't going to--"  
  
"He'd use it to get back at me."  
  
Sora blinked, and thought for a moment that one of his theories might have been right.  "For what?"  
  
"I don't know!"  Roxas let go of him abruptly and turned around, fingers raking through his hair before facing Sora again.  "I don't have any fucking idea why he hates me but he _does_ , and he'd do it."  
  
"Roxas, chill."  Sora held up both hands in supplication, face a carefully controlled calm despite wanting to giggle manically at how flustered his roommate had become.  "I was never going to tell anyone, okay?  I just thought I'd let you know that I knew.  Or something.  Right?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah."  Roxas waved one arm and paced nervously for a minute, toeing his skateboard back upright and, almost as an afterthought, picking up the hackey-sack.  At the boombox the tape clicked off, the noise loud in the silence.  He tossed the bag up and down in his hand for a moment, absently staring at the curb surrounding the parking lot.  
  
Sora shifted on his skates and folded his arms behind his head, waiting.  
  
"You wanna turn that over?"  Roxas gestured at the boombox, stepping back onto his board.  
  
"Sure."  
  
The tape resumed playing its music.  The boys resumed skating their circles, passing their beanbag back and forth until the tight look on Roxas's face faded away and he chuckled again when Sora accidentally swatted the bag into his own nose.  After a while, the awkward conversation might as well have never happened.  
  
Except that at one point, Roxas slowed a little on his skateboard and swerved back and forth lazily.  He said, "Axel."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"That's his name."  
  
Sora shifted to roll backwards and grinned brightly.  "Cool name."  
  
  
  
  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
Roxas pulled his arm out from under his pillow to check his watch, frowning at the digits it presented.  "Seven minutes since the last time you asked."  
  
Sora groaned and dropped his face into the open spine of his textbook--might as well make Sora-faceprints in all of them, that way at least he'd never get his books confused with Roxas's.  Not that he had ever once seen Roxas crack a textbook.  Or seen a textbook anywhere in his general vicinity, for that matter.  He frowned at this--though he was actually frowning at the edges of a paragraph and the border of a map of Germany.  
  
"So, do you ever actually do homework?"  He asked the paper plaintively.  
  
"That's what detention is for."  
  
Sora raised his head finally and looked up at where Roxas was lying on his stomach on the top bunk, one arm folded around his pillow and the other holding a paperback in front of his face.  The cover depicted a bosomy black-haired woman in an artfully torn ball gown, held precariously in the arms of a bare-chested man with rippling muscles and ridiculously long hair.  He was pretty sure every romance novel had a similar cover.  "You do all your homework in detention."  
  
"Yup.  Sure as hell not wasting my free time on it."  Roxas turned the page with his thumb.  
  
That made sense, in a Roxas sort of way.  Sora scowled at his textbook and the empty sheet of paper next to it.  There were only two essay questions, and they weren't actually due until Friday.  He was just trying to distract himself.  Roxas was being unusually unhelpful in that department, being enthralled with whatever cliche his book was providing.  
  
So, it was seven minutes since the last time he asked Roxas what time it was, and he'd just burnt about two minutes talking.  Which made the time approximately 4:36.  
  
He was going to die before five.  He knew it.  Probably of something random and stress-induced, like an aneurysm or spontaneous combustion.  
  
Ten minutes later, he had a mild headache, a half a sentence written out boldly at the top of his paper, and he had snapped the pencil into four pieces.  
  
On the top bunk, Roxas shifted and checked his watch again.  "Close enough, just call him already."  
  
"But if I call early, I'll seem too eager."  Sora replied logically, nodding to himself and pressing the ragged edges of the pencil pieces back together.  "And if I call right at five, it'll seem too timed.  So--"  
  
"Stop being such a girl."  
  
"I'm not!"  
  
Roxas finally set the book down, thumb hooked inside to mark his place, leveling Sora with a stern, please-get-over-yourself-now stare.  "Pick up the phone and dial the number, before I come down there and beat you with my Harlequin until you spout poetic nonsense."  
  
Sora opened his mouth, then deflated, shoulders slumped.  "Okay, fine."  
  
 _Brrrring._  
  
Both boys turned their heads to look at the phone, which hadn't even been touched yet.  Then turned back to look at each other.  
  
"I didn't give him my number!"  Sora insisted.  
  
"Then who is it?"  
  
"How should I know?"  
  
"Answer it."  
  
"You answer it."  
  
"You're already on the floor."  
  
Sora grumbled and pushed out of his chair, grabbing the phone from its place on the wall.  "Hello?"  
  
" _Sora_."  Kairi's voice was tinny and chiding, vibrating guilt into his ear.  "You said you were going to call me back."  
  
He promptly slapped a hand to his forehead.  "Gah, Kairi!  I was going to, really, but--things have been kind of insane here, so..."  
  
"You forgot."  
  
"Eheh.  Yeah."  
  
Soft chuckling over the line, clink in the background of a cup settling on a counter.  "You're lucky that I love you and I'm forgiving."  
  
Sora let out a long breath.  "Thanks.  Um, sorry Kai."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"I mean--I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to call you back again."  
  
"Again."  She repeated, and it was in that flat, disbelieving voice, the one she usually reserved for people who were clearly idiots.  She'd be flicking her hair back behind one shoulder, eyes narrowing to violet-blue slits.  "What is it this time?"  
  
Sora knocked one toe against the baseboard, on the wall just below the phone.  Heard the soft knock-knock of the movement.  "I kind of need to call someone."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"Yes.  Right now."  
  
"And this _someone_ ," Kairi drawled the word out like stretching taffy, voice just as sickly-sweet, "is more important than me?"  
  
"Um..."  
  
"Hmm."  He heard the smirk in her voice, the curve of her lips when she spoke.  "Phone date with Riku?"  
  
Sora swallowed thickly and looked everywhere around the room except at Roxas, who was watching him around the edge of his book.  The phone cord coiled around his waist.  "...yeah."  
  
"Oh, do I detect a lack of denial?"  She chuckled and it was pleasant again.  "I suppose, but don't forget this time."  
  
"I won't, really."  And it would probably do to take a note... he scanned his desk, noted the mostly-empty paper and the destroyed pencil.  Then his gaze traveled up to the boy on the top bunk who was trying to look disinterested.  "Rox."  
  
"Uh?"  
  
"Remind me to call Kairi back."  
  
"Who's Kairi?"  
  
"Just--remind me, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever."  He disappeared back behind the gaudy cover art.  
  
Kairi was humming over the line.  "Who was that?"  
  
"My roommate."  
  
"You have a roommate now?  When did that happen?"  
  
"I'll explain later."  Sora was positive that the five o'clock hour had come and gone by this point, and he was still not talking to Riku.  This was outside the plan for this evening.  "Really, I gotta go."  
  
"Okay, okay.  Talk to you later, then."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Remember, no phone sex on the first date."  
  
"Kai!"  
  
"Hehe, bye."  
  
Sora hung the phone back onto its cradle and puffed out his cheeks, blowing air at the general space in front of him.  He then lifted the receiver, unwound the phone cord from around his waist, and hung it up again.  Then blew out a breath again.  
  
"I don't hear dialing," Roxas said from behind his book.  
  
Sora chewed on his lip.  Sora took a deep breath and opened his mouth, as though in preparation to practice his greeting, then drooped against the wall in defeat.  Sora made a pathetic whimpering noise, then straightened and shook his head, taking another deep breath.  
  
"Still don't hear dialing.  I do, however, hear something that sounds suspiciously like Lamaze."  One blue eye peered at him around the edge of the book cover.  "There something you're not telling me, Sora?"  
  
"Shut up."  Sora stuck his tongue out at Roxas--not that it would earn him any points, and Roxas just laughed anyway--then returned his attention to the phone.  
  
He lifted one hand and placed it on the receiver.  Then lifted that.  Okay, so far so good.  He turned the receiver over and slowly dialed the number written on the phone list on the wall, double and triple checking to make sure he didn't press the wrong numbers.  He placed the receiver against his ear.  The whirr of the phone dialing sounded over the line.  
  
He slammed the phone back onto the cradle in one swift, panicked motion.  
  
On the top bunk, Roxas's book had fallen onto his pillow, and he had his face buried in his hands.  "Fuck, Sora, it's just Riku.  Call him."  
  
Sora stared down the phone on the wall.  It sat silent and innocent alongside the list of numbers, cord dangling all the way to coil on the floor due to the constant stretching and abuse Sora inflicted on it.  Clearly, the phone was wreaking its revenge on him.  
  
He lifted one hand and placed it on the receiver.  Then lifted that.  Alright, we're gonna do it this time.  He turned the receiver over and slowly pushed the buttons, number almost memorized now from all the double and triple checking.  He placed the receiver against his ear.  
  
Once again, the phone was shoved back onto its cradle with far too much force.  Sora stood there with both hands holding it in place and stared down at the floor.  
  
It was because his heart kept jumping into his throat, so he knew he couldn't talk.  That was it.  He wasn't scared or anything.  
  
A thud on the tiled floor signaled Roxas's decent from his bed.  A few taps against the hard surface signaled him approaching, and then the toes of his Converse appeared in Sora's line of sight.  He was wearing the sky-blue ones today.  
  
Roxas tapped him on the shoulder.  "Hey."  
  
His voice was soft, almost... comforting.  Sora looked up, lower lip between his teeth, and relaxed when he saw the quiet smile on Roxas's face.  He understood, right?  He had to... he'd probably done the exact same thing before.  Right?  
  
Roxas raised his book in one hand and thwacked Sora over the head with it.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Stop being a pansy-ass and call him."  
  
Sora rubbed his head, pouting, and scowled at Roxas as he turned and launched himself back up into his bunk, lying on his back and opening his book.  The bastard.  
  
The phone stared him down, brown plastic surface menacing.  Sora narrowed his eyes and stared back.  
  
He lifted one hand and placed it on the receiver.  Then lifted that.  He turned the receiver over and dialed the number quickly, placing it against his ear so hopefully he wouldn't have time to chicken out.  The whirr of the phone dialing sounded over the line.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  Sora swallowed hard and remembered to breathe.  Four times.  Oh crap, what if no one was home?  What if he'd waited too long?  What if--  
  
"Hello?"  A male voice asked suddenly.  It wasn't Riku; sounded too old and a little too bright.  
  
"Hi.  Um."  Sora's voice caught and he cleared his throat, hopefully not too loud.  "Um.  Is Riku there?"  
  
"Yeah," the guy drew the word out into a long vowel, a touch of amusement and treachery entering the tone.  "May I ask who's calling?"  
  
"Ah, this is Sora."  He swallowed a few times in the hopes that his voice would stop sounding so high.  
  
The guy on the other end of the line seemed to find this terribly interesting.  "Oh _really_?"  Soft chuckle that reminded him a little too much of Roxas.  Oh, that couldn't be good.  "Could you tell me what this is regarding?"  
  
Crap.  "Um.  Well."  Crap.  What could he say?  This was probably one of Riku's family, so... how exactly do you explain that you're a boy calling to schedule a date with their male relative?  Wait--swim meet!  Saved.  "I wanted to know how the swim meet went."  
  
"Oh, is that all?"  The guy sounded disappointed.  "Well, that's no fun.  You're supposed to say something sappy or romantic, like 'I just wanted to hear the sound of his voice!'  Or at least say you're calling to ask him out.  Jeez."  
  
Sora sputtered and totally failed to form a reply to that, but the guy only chuckled along with the shift of the phone as it moved aside.  Suddenly he was yelling at the top of his lungs.  "RI-KU!"  The male voice singsonged merrily, "SO-RA'S ON THE PHO-ONE!"  
  
The telephone picked up an alarming number of sounds and voices following that, the first being the sound of feet pounding on carpeted floors.  Then a young female voice giggling and singing out, "Ri-ku's got a  boy-friend!"  Then a scuffling noise that made the receiver cut in and out, and a hiss, and the guy's voice again chuckling followed by Riku growling, "Give me the phone, dickwad!"  Then finally an older female, clear and motherly and ringing over everything else despite the soft and soothing tone, "Now boys, violence is not the answer."  
  
Then some rustling, some footsteps, and finally Riku's voice soft against his ear.  "Sora?"  
  
Sora found a smile on his face unexpectedly, beaming in the general direction of nothing.  "Hi."  
  
On the top bunk, Roxas rolled to the side and wrapped both hands around his neck, pretending to be gagging.  He was still a bastard.  
  
"Hi."  Riku was probably smiling, too--at least, his voice sounded like he was.  He was probably walking slowly down his hallway, trying to push the hair back out of his eyes.  "Sorry about that, my brother's an idiot."  
  
The voice of said idiot echoed somewhere in the background in retort.  
  
Sora coughed a little, nervously.  "I um... didn't realize they knew about me."  
  
"Oh, yeah.  They kind of dragged it out of me at dinner the other night."  Muffled quality to Riku's voice, almost embarrassed.  Sound of a door opening.  "If that's not okay then--"  
  
"It's fine," Sora said quickly, because he didn't like that tone.  He liked the light one Riku got when he was teasing, or the soft one when he smiled.  Or maybe the honey-sweet one he'd used when--  "I just... so they're okay with... you?  And... and me, and everything?"  
  
There was a pause on the line while whatever door that was opened previously swung shut, and Sora moved over enough to sit down at his desk, pointedly ignoring the blond spikes and ice-blue eyes peering over the edge of the wood-slat headboard of the top bunk.  
  
"Yeah," Riku said finally, and there was a hint of something pleased in the sound of the word.  
  
"Oh, wow, that's great."  Sora's voice took on a quiver, and he wondered if the dining room staff had hidden crickets in the mac and cheese, because a great many of them seemed to be bouncing happily in his stomach.  "I mean, that they're cool with it, yanno.  I think--" he paused abruptly and licked his lips, aware of the eyes on him without having to meet them, "--I think I know someone whose parents really don't understand."  
  
If there was a low hiss sounding from somewhere among the top bunk's pillow, Sora took no notice.  
  
"That seems to happen a lot.  I guess I'm lucky."  Soft huff over the line and a squeak of bedsprings.  Oh.  Riku must have gone to his bedroom.  
  
Sora scrunched up his face and tried to form a mental image.  Riku was a teenager, of course, so it would be messy.  Unmade bed, clothes on the floor, empty pizza box and homework on the desk.  Stereo on a shelf overflowing with cassettes.  Maybe a few precious CDs, too.  Maybe a table with twine and beads and stuff for the hemp jewelry Riku liked to make.  He leaned back to stare up at the ceiling and tried to remember the backs of all the t-shirts he'd seen Riku wearing over the last couple of months, because there would probably be band posters on the walls.  Lots of them.  
  
"Sora?"  
  
"Oh, sorry.  Just thinking."  
  
Riku chuckled softly, around the soft sounds of him settling back against pillows.  "Anything in particular?"  
  
"I wondered what your room looked like."  Sora kicked his legs up onto the desk, comfortable as he could be in the desk chair, shifting it a little from side to side.  Smashing Pumpkins.  That was one of them, definitely, but there was another...  "Oh, yeah.  How was the meet?"  
  
"Pretty good, actually.  I won the freestyle.  The team didn't win overall, but we broke some record times, so it's all good."  Riku's voice was muffled again, but this time it sounded more like pillows.  "And now I'm exhausted.  I was sleeping when you called."  
  
"Oh."  Aha!  Nine Inch Nails.  That was it.  Sora smiled at the ceiling triumphantly, although Riku couldn't see it and he really didn't understand any of what he'd said about the swim meet, aside from the adjectival 'good'.  "Sor--"  
  
"Don't apologize, I told you to call.  Right?"  There was definitely a smile in Riku's voice.  Sora ran through his mental image again, assigning posters around the room and picturing Riku curled on his side on the bed, comforter tugged around his shoulders and a cordless handset against his ear, minuscule smile on his face for the boy on the other end of the line.  
  
Sora blushed.  He'd almost been expecting it, this time.  "Yeah."  
  
"So what did you do today?"  
  
Sora chanced a look at the bunkbeds, but only a few spikes were visible over the headboard slats.  "Well, me 'n Roxas played hackey-sack in the parking lot for a while.  Then I, uh--" he prodded at the remains of his pencil with a heel, "tried to do some homework."  
  
"Homework?  On a Saturday?"  
  
"I was bored!"  Sora puffed out a breath defensively, lifting his feet so he could spin a slow circle in the chair and place them back on the desk.  "Oh, and my friend Kairi called, but I was about to call you so I only talked to her for a minute."  
  
There was an unquiet silence over the line for a moment before Riku echoed, "Kairi?"  
  
Sora blinked for a moment at the strain in Riku's voice, before he figured it out.  Roxas had accused him of being jealous the other night, rightfully so after Sora had kicked him out of a dead sleep, but Sora, apparently, wasn't alone in this regard.  "She's an old friend, you know.  From back in California."  
  
"Oh, right."  Riku said this a little too quickly for Sora's liking, especially with the way he could hear the bed squeaking while he fidgeted.  He was tugging at the sleeves of his shirt, probably.  Sora was pretty sure he'd seen that before.  "I forgot.  You know.  That you didn't used to live here."  
  
"You forgot," Sora mimicked, failing to smother a soft laugh.  "You forgot that you've only really known me for about six days."  
  
Huff of air over the line.  "Longer than that.  I mean, as classmates, I guess."  The way he said it made Sora think that he could calculate the exact length of time down to one-fourth of a second.  "I guess," he repeated, and that strain was still there, although it was more a matter of nerves now, "I'm just used to you being around.  I never really thought about you living somewhere else and hanging out with other people."  
  
"I like it that way."  Sora didn't quite realize what he was saying until he actually said it, and then figured Riku could take that however he wanted.  "I like it, that you only know me the way I am now."  
  
He could almost hear the frown on Riku's face.  "Sora?"  
  
Sora laughed again, brightly and honestly, because it was okay.  Riku would hear it.  "She's just a friend, you know."  
  
" _Just_ a friend."  
  
"Yeah.  Not like," Sora flailed verbally for an adequate description, then grinned at the ceiling again.  "Well, you know.  Not like you."  
  
Another silence on the line, but this time he was sure--he was totally positive that Riku was smiling.  
  
The top bunk emitted the muffled sounds of strangulation.  
  
"So, you're coming over tomorrow, right?" Sora asked brightly without missing a beat.  
  
"Yeah."  Another moment of shifting, and Riku's voice was less muffled.  He was probably lying on his back now, arm behind his head, staring at his ceiling in much the same fashion that Sora was.  "I plan on sleeping until noon, personally, so does one o'clock sound good?"  
  
The crickets in his stomach had clearly been dosed heavily with caffeine and sugar before being fed to unsuspecting teenagers.  "Sounds great."  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxas turned to face the wall and frowned at it, tugging his blankets securely over his shoulder.  It had been at least an hour since lights-out, and he knew Sora was awake, but the kid was just rolling around in the bottom bunk, randomly making disturbingly happy noises like sighs and chuckles and totally failing in any manner of sleep.  The girl.  
  
And yet, Roxas was still here on his own bunk, having yet to feel any toes poking into his mattress.  Something wasn't right with all of this.  
  
Finally, after Sora had finished humming a little tune to himself and rolled over for the seventeenth consecutive time, Roxas spoke up.  "Hey, Sora."  
  
"Huh?  Oh, I thought you were asleep."  
  
"Why did you tell him that?"  
  
Roxas expected the silence from the bottom bunk; Sora would have to work out of his 'I have a date with Riku' daze and catch up with the conversation, then figure out what he was talking about.  
  
Finally, he heard a flop and a muffled hum that signaled Sora landing on his back on the mattress.  "I didn't tell him who I was talking about.  It was--you know, _hypothetical_."  
  
"Pssht."  Roxas hissed against his pillow and said nothing, because that little shit had _so_ not just used his own dodge tactic against him.  
  
"Well, it really was.  I don't have any idea why you left home, Rox, but I figured that might have been it."  Sora nudged his mattress, a sharp poke in his side.  "I didn't mean anything by it, seriously.  I was illustrating a point.  You know.  Like in English class."  
  
Roxas spent a moment picking out patterns in the texturing on the wall, then let out a breath.  "Goodnight, Sora."  
  
"Night."  
  
By the time he fell asleep, Sora was already snoozing fitfully and murmuring things to imaginary rabbits and his mother; he'd found three cats, a Rolodex and a totaled convertible on the wall; and he'd decided that Sora was way, _way_ too fucking sharp.  Far more so than he'd ever given the dumb kid credit for.  
  
A few minutes after he fell asleep, he was dreaming that the high school had an elevator that broke the space/time continuum, and he was exploring this phenomenon with a redhead at his side.  They stood in the physics lab with a small collective of multicolored lab mice and cackled madly while studying the surface of Venus through the windows.  Roxas would vaguely remember this in the morning and smile somewhere that Sora wouldn't see it.


	8. Glycerine

**8:  Glycerine  
  
** So, Riku had lied.  Although it was an acceptable, teenager kind of lie that wouldn't actually harm anyone in the long run and was only told to begin with in order to save a little pride.  He knew he wasn't going to sleep until noon.  He'd been swimming all day and was dead to the world by 7PM.  Therefore, it stood to reason that he would be bright-eyed (if not necessarily bushy-tailed) by 9AM at the latest.  Which would give him four solid hours before he had to be at Sora's dorm.  
  
The fib had been told, you see, for the purposes of Sora's perception.  If he thought that Riku had arrived after only an hour of preparation, he would never suspect just how much stress their little date instilled upon the fibber.  Riku preferred it this way.  Spending four hours preparing for a date was _not_ considered even _remotely_ cool for any teenage boy, anywhere in any city, state, province, country or principality.  
  
Thus, Riku had lied; but it was justified.  
  
He had, unfortunately, not taken it into consideration that the only other person in the house on that particular Sunday morning would be his bastard of an older brother.  Said bastard was lounging in a recliner with a bowl of popcorn, watching Riku dart around the house like a shower-wet mouse on crack, before finally--and grudgingly--stopping in the living room to spread his arms at his sides and growl, "Okay, asshole.  How do I look?"  
  
"Aside from like you just got out of a shower that was needlessly long and hot--seriously, Rik, the water heater's getting too old for this--umm..."  
  
Riku scowled, mostly because he'd taken a long hot shower for a very, _very_ good reason and the last thing he needed was for that to be pointed out to him in layers of obviousness.  Mao scrutinized him slowly, twisting his mouth dramatically and finally tilting his head.  "Too grunge.  Lose the flannel."  
  
Riku grit his teeth and tugged off the blue button-up--he'd picked it because it was warm and soft and invited cuddling, mostly, and also because blue was steadily becoming his new favorite color--and tossed it on the arm of the couch, spreading his arms again.  "Okay, now?"  
  
"Hmm."  Mao noted the blank t-shirt, the carpenters that were really not very Riku-ish, and the eternally present combats on his feet.  He shook his head.  "Nope, not working for you.  Try again."  
  
"Couldn't you, like..." Riku waved one hand while considering, gesturing in a general direction, "I dunno-- _leave_?"  
  
"Are you kidding?  This is better than cable!"  Mao grinned and popped a kernel into his mouth.  
  
Riku muttered words that his mother would wash his mouth out with bleach for if she caught so much as a syllable as he stalked back to his room and slammed the door.  
  
Ten minutes later he was back in the living room with hands on his hips, just staring and not bothering to ask his brother anything.  Bastard talked enough without provocation.  
  
Mao looked him over and sighed.  "I didn't even know you _owned_ tight jeans."  
  
"I think they're from junior high."  
  
"Well, they make you look like you did in junior high.  Is that what you want?"  Mao munched on his popcorn and eyed the white dress shirt.  This was getting ridiculous.  "Stop faking.  Go try again."  
  
Riku grumbled under his breath and stormed down the hall, failing to slam his bedroom door, because the stupid thing had always worked against him when he was mad.  Had something to do with the air currents in the house.  He grumbled some more and pawed through the clothes scattered across his floor and bed, feeling a distinct discomfort with this entire scenario.  Mao acted like it shouldn't be this hard.  Yeah, well he didn't know.  He just... _didn't_.  
  
He paused at one point and considered a few things, then quickly stripped and re-dressed and returned to the living room with a little less force.  "All right, are you happy now?"  
  
Mao started his scrutiny at Riku's feet.  Combats were present and accounted for.  All was well, so far.  Then up--worn in blue jeans, wide leg, small rip in the seam near the knee.  Good, good.  Up further--dusty blue thermal, sleeves being tugged at habitually by its wearer, and over the top of it, a charcoal gray tee.  His two hemp bracelets were in place on his left wrist and, most importantly, there were safety pins.  Everywhere.  Riku just never looked quite right without them.  
  
"Perfect!"  Mao declared this while slamming a palm on the arm of the recliner, jostling his popcorn somewhat.  "No, wait.  Wear the Lollapalooza tee instead."  
  
"It's in the wash."  
  
"Crap.  Um... then the black one with the NIN logo on the front."  
  
"Right."  Riku, despite his brother's clear enthusiasm, didn't move.  He stood and he stared, and his stare was not pleasant.  It promised strange things being found in his bed sometime in the near future.  "You realize this is what I wear to school every day?"  
  
" _Exactly!_ "  Mao thumped the recliner once more for emphasis, grinning at his little brother's scowl.  His grin promised retribution for any strange things found in his bed, a retribution that would be swift and painful and probably involve underwear.  _All_ of his underwear.  "It's _you_ , Riku.  You know.  It's familiar."  
  
Riku paused and frowned and considered this.  Familiar.  If it was familiar to Mao, it would be familiar to Sora--this was how Sora saw him every day, after all.  If it was familiar to Sora, then it would be within Sora's comfort zone.  Being within said zone would result in a relaxed Sora.  A relaxed Sora would result in--  
  
"Thanks."  Riku's voice was clipped and curt and followed immediately by him swiveling on one heel and heading back down the hall.  
  
"Black tee.  NIN logo."  Mao called after him.  
  
Clearly his brother was a bastard who knew far, far too much.  Riku found the t-shirt anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora paced the width of his room one final time, pager clutched in one hand, and spun to make sure Roxas was awake and venturing closer to the door.  Because he was still here.  It was quarter to one and Roxas.  Was still.  Here.  Sora scowled, and it was neither pathetic nor cute.  "Aren't you gone yet?"  
  
Roxas peered up from tying his shoelaces.  "You might want to think about taking some B vitamins.  You know.  For stress."  
  
"I am not having stress."  
  
"Then you're clearly having kittens.  Come on, let's go to the vet."  Roxas stood and wriggled his toes in his shoes, extending one hand to Sora.  "It'll be okay, you know Lamaze."  
  
Sora was having none of this today.  He scowled harder (and scarier, even) and balled his fists at his sides.  "Would you just.  GO."  
  
"I'm really feeling the love, here, Sky-boy."  Roxas said it petulantly but picked up his skateboard from its corner by the door anyway.  "I'll be back sometime this evening.  And hey, do me a favor."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please, for the love of all that is holy, just kiss him.  Okay?  Preferably a lot."  Roxas nodded seriously, mentally scanning the tension in Sora's body before sighing and turning to open the door.  "Later."  
  
Once the door clicked shut and he was alone in the room, Sora abruptly found the space to be very large and very empty and very _quiet_.  He considered, for a moment, rushing out the door and down the hall and dragging Roxas back inside.  For moral support.  Because he wasn't nervous.  No, not one bit.  
  
Sora went to the bathroom and stared at the mirror for a moment.  Then rolled his eyes upwards and stared at his unruly hair.  He'd never been self-conscious about it before--on most occasions he rather liked it--but at the moment he was considering shaving it.  Or possibly attacking it with some of the styling products that were piled on Roxas's side of the counter.  Some of them looked pretty... industrial.  
  
On second thought, however, Riku had never seemed to mind his hair.  In fact, he seemed to touch it a lot.  In fact, that was the first place Riku had _ever_ touched him.  
  
Okay, scratch that.  The hair stays.  The hair is good.  
  
Sora grimaced at the mirror to make sure nothing was stuck in his teeth, then flicked the light off and left the bathroom.  His room was still empty.  
  
Music.  He needed music.  
  
He could have picked out one of his own cassettes easily, but playing a cassette was _so_ uncool when you had a CD player available.  Which he did.  Therefore, he scurried over to Roxas's boombox, plucked a leaf that was still clinging to the antenna away, and started flipping through the piles of CD cases next to it.  
  
Five minutes later he grumbled to himself, "Nirvana doesn't even _have_ this many albums.  What the hell?"  
  
Finally, though, he pulled a case out of the third stack triumphantly and opened it, gazing down at the gleaming blue CD inside.  Then he turned to gaze down at the stereo on the desk.  
  
Hmm.  
  
There were way too many buttons on the appliance, but after a few minutes Sora had the cover open and set the disc carefully, _carefully_ in place before closing it and pressing some more buttons.  He had no idea what they did, but by the time he was done he was pretty sure the disc was on continuous play.  Or it might have been shuffle.  Whatever.  The volume was good, at least he knew that much.  
  
And then the door knocked, and he forgot all about buttons and compact discs.  
  
First, he froze in place, half bent with hands hovering over the stereo.  Then, he spun and looked wildly around the room.  Okay, it was still a little messy, but--  
  
Crap, the door, the door!  
  
He skidded across the tile floor and grabbed the doorknob, flinging the thing open and nearly stumbling forward straight into Riku.  Although that would have been fine, really, but he righted himself anyway and rubbed the back of his head, smiling brightly.  He was _so_ not nervous.  "Hi."  
  
"Hi."  Riku pushed his hair back and smirked, and Sora figured he wasn't fooling anyone.  He nudged the door with a finger.  "You gonna let me in?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  Sora backed away abruptly, motioning for Riku to come inside.  Which he did.  And sat on his bed.  Crap.  Crapcrapcrap.  
  
Sora grit his teeth at the closed door, that the expression might bounce off the wood and hit himself in the forehead.  _He was just here the other night.  Sitting in the same place.  What the hell is wrong?_  
  
After a moment of consideration, Sora decided to go sit at his desk.  This way, they would be configured as they had been once before, and this entire moment would not be so awkward.  Right?  
  
"So, I thought we'd go for a walk."  Riku said after Sora was sitting, and it was strange to see him without his backpack.  He looked good, though, he looked... pretty much the same as he always did, actually.  That was kind of nice.  "There's this park a few blocks from here.  Okay with you?"  
  
"Sure."  Public was probably safe, Sora figured.  And since it wasn't school, maybe there wouldn't be any staring or whispering to put up with.  That would be nice, too.  
  
In the background, the song on the CD came to an end, then started up again.  Huh.  That didn't seem right.  
  
Riku cocked an eyebrow at him.  "You really like this song or something?"  
  
Sora scrambled out of his chair and over to the stereo, pressing a few buttons hopefully.  Nothing happened.  He blew out a breath and chewed his lip.  Honestly, everyone liked _Undone_ , but it couldn't play forever.  Right?  "Um... do you know how to work this?"  
  
Riku was suddenly very close.  Over his shoulder, in fact, and rather warm.  "Oh, I see.  Is it new?"  
  
"No, it's Roxas's.  I probably shouldn't have messed with it."  
  
"S'ok, can't be that hard."  Riku reached out beside him and pressed a button.  The music came to a halt.  "There, see?  That--"  
  
The song started playing again.  
  
The two boys stared down at the stereo with dubious expressions.  
  
"Huh," Riku said after a moment.  
  
"Do you think it's possessed?"  Sora asked, looking up at him hopefully.  "You know, like your car?"  
  
"My car is not possessed, Sora."  
  
"No, I really think it is.  Maybe you should call a priest or something."  
  
Together, they tried a few other buttons with no result.  The disc continued playing and continued repeating the same song.  Riku suggested just opening the player or turning the power off or something, but Sora insisted that no, compact discs were extremely fragile and would disintegrate under the slightest amount of stress.  Or even worse, it might _scratch_.  And then Roxas would kill him.  
  
Eventually, they turned the volume down so the rest of the dorm didn't get annoyed, and left the room side by side.  Innocently.  Because the boombox on Roxas's desk was _totally_ possessed.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sora, you're not watching."  Riku curled his arms around the handholds on either side of the ladder, tapping his heels against the metal edges of the slide he was currently seated at the top of.  The small playground was deserted, as he had (hoped) expected, it being the dead of November and rather cold, after all.  Which was perfect--there were lots of interesting places to sit on a playground, and room to run around if one wanted to chase a bit, and if Sora got a bit cold, well... things might happen.  Maybe.  
  
A few feet below, Sora reached out with a foot and kicked against a pole so the tire swing he was sitting in would turn him to face Riku and his slide.  "Okay, Riku.  Show me your skills."  
  
Riku nodded once, then released the handholds and zoomed down the metal contraption, catching himself perfectly with both feet at the bottom and instantly pushing his hands into his pockets, strolling over to Sora and his tire swing.  Sora was clapping enthusiastically.  "Awesome!  Do it again!"  
  
"No."  Riku caught either side of the tire with both hands to hold Sora steady.  "That was my last performance, just for you.  I'm retiring and moving to Italy, now.  Wanna come with?"  
  
"Sure!"  His smile was bright enough that November felt rather more like August.  Riku smirked and started turning the tire in his hands.  "That's perfect, I've always wanted to live in Venice."  
  
"Oh?"  Riku watched as Sora and his smile moved in and out of his line of sight while he twisted the swing around.  "Why's that?"  
  
"So I can go grocery shopping by boat."  
  
Riku sputtered and started laughing, and almost lost control of the tire swing--that wouldn't do, he hadn't twisted it up enough yet.  He halted in the process just long enough for Sora to wrinkle his nose at him.  "What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing, it's just... your reasoning is so unique."  Riku smirked and continued turning the swing, the chains holding it aloft creaking in protest.  "Although, you have a point.  That would be kind of cool."  
  
"Yeah, it would!"  Sora nodded enthusiastically, head tilting back a bit to look up at the sky.  "See, we'd just have a boat instead of a car, right?  So we'd go grocery shopping in it, and--well, we'll be retired so we won't have to work, and... I wonder if there's a cruise strip in Venice.  You know.  With all the teenagers out in their boats 'cause they're too young to drink and have nothing else to do."  Sora laughed and Riku stopped turning so he could see that, watch Sora as he shifted back forward and met his gaze.  "We'll have to do that, go out in our boat on the cruise and bitch about all the damn kids."  
  
"Sounds like fun."  Riku leaned forwards so his elbows were resting on the edge of the tire, just brushing against Sora's arms.  "Does our boat have a back seat to make out in?"  
  
Sora rolled his eyes skywards to consider this, humming a little to himself.  "Maybe.  Uh, Riku..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Um, that chain's twisted really tight, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
Sora looked back down to see him smirking and flailed, trying to grab a hold of Riku as he drew away.  "No, don't let go!  AHHHH!"  
  
A few minutes later, Riku helped a decidedly dizzy Sora off the tire swing, tucking him close against his side when he wavered on his feet.  "Well, that was fun."  
  
"Uhh, make the world stop spinning," Sora groaned, leaning heavily against him.  
  
Riku figured this was a good sign and guided them away from the playground, onto a path winding through the park, pale green grass stark against the orange leaves falling from the trees.  "Hungry?"  
  
"Ugh, no."  Sora shifted and slipped an arm around his waist, presumably to support himself, but Riku was starting to suspect that the kid was enjoying this.  A moment later he amended, "Well, maybe in five minutes."  
  
  
  
  
  
"So, you lived in Long Beach.  In California.  All your life."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"And then you moved _here_ , that being 'the great middle of fucking nowhere, Oregon'."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Why?"  Riku settled one elbow on the small wire table and popped a fry into his mouth, watching Sora tear into a double-burger with gusto.  Surprisingly, he had come away from it so far with only a dab of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.  Which was impressive, as this particular drive-in tended towards the overly large and extremely sloppy as food went.  "I mean, seriously.  And while I'm at it--you know, I never asked why you live in the dorms.  So."  He shrugged a little, as though to express that Sora didn't really have to break the whole tale of Why if he didn't really want to.  
  
"Well."  Sora caught the ketchup off his mouth with his thumb, small pink tongue darting out to lick it away, then picked up his napkin to clean up, leaning over the table a bit and looking up at Riku.  "I kind of got into some trouble.  It's complicated, but, that's just kind of one half of it."  
  
Riku nodded and rested his chin on his hand, ignoring his food also in preference for what Sora was divulging.  He didn't seem like the 'get into some trouble' type.  "Okay, so what's the other half?"  
  
"Mom got promoted.  So, it was just best all around for us to move here."  Sora picked up a fry and stuck it in the corner of his mouth, chewing absently.  "She's out of town all the time, so it's easier on her to have me in the dorms, so she doesn't worry."  
  
Riku noted that there was no mention of Sora's dad.  And through experience over the years, he had learned that if someone made no mention of one parent or the other, it was usually for a common reason.  He decided not to ask.  "If she's away all the time, why do you have to live here?"  
  
Sora shrugged, pushing the rest of the fry into his mouth.  "Something about the regional office and living within the district.  I don't know, I don't think we had to move _here_ specifically, but we couldn't stay in Cali."  
  
Riku let the silence hang while Sora picked out another fry, twirling it in some ketchup at the bottom of his basket before biting off half.  "Well, I'm glad you picked here."  
  
Sora grinned brightly and the temperature rose again.  "So'm I."  
  
"You miss your friends?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  Sora looked down as he swirled another fry in his ketchup.  "But, I figure I'll go back eventually.  Not for a while, I mean," he added quickly, darting a look back up at Riku, "with school now, and then I guess I'll go to the community college.  Just, you know.  I like it there."  
  
Riku figured he'd like it there, too.  He'd like it wherever Sora was.  But, he was probably getting ahead of himself.  "You know what we should do after this?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ice cream."  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora was chewing on the end of his ice cream cone by the time they arrived back at the dorms, and he held it in his mouth while he fished the keys out of his pockets and continued his story to Riku around it.  "--so I told him, 'Dude, I don't think that's the right kind of ball,' but the guy hit it anyway."  He chuckled as the door opened and he led them into the room, not so large and empty and quiet now that someone else was there with him.  "We found it in a Woolworth's three blocks away.  There were three broken windows and a display of silk flowers went, like, _everywhere_.  The manager was pissed."  
  
Riku laughed and flopped down in his usual place across the head of Sora's bed, on the far side of the desk, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall.  "I bet.  He didn't call the police or anything?"  
  
Sora shifted a little on his feet, partially at the question and partially as he wasn't quite sure where to put himself.  "No, worse--he called our parents."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"Seriously."  
  
Riku nodded in sympathy and his gaze traveled slowly around the room.  "Hey, turn the music back up.  Just enough for background noise."  
  
Sora nodded and did so, finishing his ice cream cone in the process and on the way back decided abruptly to just climb onto the bed and sit against the wall, mirroring Riku's position.  Maybe a few inches of space between them.  That would be fine.  It would be.  
  
This is what Sora told himself.  His stomach, however, was informing him that it was still full of crickets.  "So, what about you?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head to the side and poking Riku in the shoulder.  "What about your family?"  
  
"Well, you talked to Mao.  He's a bastard."  Riku smiled wryly as he stated this, however, which led Sora to believe that he meant it in a good way.  Though that totally escaped him.  "I mean--I guess you don't have any siblings, but he is really the proverbial Evil Big Brother."  
  
"He seemed like he really enjoyed teasing people just for fun."  
  
"Exactly.  I have a little sister, too.  Haru.  She's eight.  You might have heard her last night."  Riku looked to the side as Sora nodded to confirm this, then looked away in embarrassment, reiterating himself.  "She's eight.  Anyway, then there's mom and dad, and that's it, I guess.  I mean, they're all completely insane, but..."  He shrugged a little, as though to express the sentiment that they were his, whether he liked it or not.  
  
Sora chuckled warily.  "I'm gonna have to meet them eventually, aren't I?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
Sora nodded again, this time in resignation to what was apparently his fate, and his gaze randomly landed on the broken pencil still lying on his desk.  He wondered, for a moment, how his train of thought had brought him to that entire idea.  Only, it sort of made sense.  When one had a friend of some sort, one generally expected that sooner or later they would visit that friend's home and meet their family.  Riku was a friend of some sort, he supposed... boyfriend, maybe, and so... Sora figured that was logical.  
  
This is what he told himself, but something in his chest was tightening.  
  
He saw Riku moving out of the corner of his eye and ripped his attention away from the bits of pencil, returning it to Riku with a smile just in time to see him lean over and push his hair behind his ear.  He was going to say something about thinking, but then--  
  
It happened, just like that.  And it was just that easy.  
  
Sora had never thought of something like this that way.  As something easy and simple.  But the universe had abruptly condensed itself to a single point, and that point, currently, was the soft, cool press of Riku's mouth against his.  And at this point, Sora pretty much stopped thinking about anything at all, entirely.  
  
Sora discovered that, when his eyes slid closed and he tilted his head slightly, their lips would slide between each other and catch and press and that it _tingled_ , and that Riku tasted kind of like mint chocolate chip and that if he tilted his head another way, so that his mouth pushed closer, Riku would sigh against his lips and slide a warm palm against his neck, thumb brushing over his cheek and the slide and press would be a little harder, would tingle a little more, would want a little more and he _wanted_ \--oh, god, he wanted but his shoulders were shaking a little and he wasn't sure which way was up and he might be whimpering, just a little--  
  
And Sora was glad, somewhere within his small point of universe, that they were alone and closed inside his little room, and that no one else in the world would ever know about _this_ kiss.  The _real_ one.  
  
Riku drew back slowly, thumb brushing over Sora's lower lip, and he didn't open his eyes for a few seconds even though Sora's were already wide and round.  When he did, though, Sora realized that he was still very close, and that there was a clear question hanging in the minuscule space between them.  
  
 _Can I...?  Again..?_  
  
Sora could never explain exactly why, but his body decided to rebel on him at this point, in the form of his hand balling into a fist and connecting quite sharply with Riku's shoulder.  
  
"Ow!  What was that for?"  
  
"My masculinity."  
  
"Okay, then," Riku grumbled, rubbing his shoulder, and Sora thought... was he... pouting, just a little?  "Got that out of your system?"  
  
"Yeah," Sora replied, and promptly slid his arms around Riku's neck and kissed him back.  
  
  
  
  
  
He had Sora on his back in the middle of the hockey court--no, wait.  That was the fantasy.  The one that wasn't really necessary, now--well, maybe it would still be on those Long Hot Shower mornings.  But in the Right Now, it wasn't.  Necessary.  At all.  
  
They'd kissed for a bit, and then somehow ended up just curling around each other, shifting to lie full-length on the bed, on their sides, head sharing a pillow.  Riku's arms were wrapped around Sora's waist and he was nuzzled comfortably against his chest.  Sora's chin rested on the top of his head, and his fingers trailed repeatedly through Riku's hair.  
  
It was nice.  It was more than nice.  It was _perfect_.  Riku could easily stay right here, unmoving, for the rest of eternity, with Sora entangled with him and the warmth and spicy-sweet smell of Sora surrounding him and _Undone_ still playing on repeat in the background.  And dammit, he didn't care if his arm fell asleep.  Which it was in the process of doing.  It could just fall off.  Seriously.  
  
Riku figured, though, that it might not last much longer.  He could all but hear the churning of Sora's thoughts in high-gear--and he might tease him for being a jock or not being too swift, but Sora had a brain, and he could _think_.  And he would, and he would dissect and process and hypothesize and present you with his conclusion when the full scope of his ideas were laid out clearly in order.  
  
And in this instance, with each slow turn of his mental hamster wheel, he would straighten just a bit, tense just a bit more in Riku's arms.  
  
He sighed and pressed his face a little closer against a soft red t-shirt, inhaling the scent of Sora's skin and dryer sheets through the fabric.  "Are you scared?"  
  
Sora's fingers paused in his hair.  "No."  The word was almost defiant.  
  
"Nervous, then?"  
  
Sora's breath ruffled over his head.  "I just... I'm not really sure what I'm doing."  
  
Riku chuckled softly, nuzzling the fabric against his face.  "You and the rest of the world, Sora."  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Don't worry about it so much."  Riku closed his eyes and hoped that the hair-stroking would resume.  Soon.  "If something feels right, then do that.  If something feels wrong, then say so."  
  
"So," Sora huffed across his hair, one hand starting to move again in slow circles--oh, that was nice-- "if I decide it would feel right to kiss you in the middle of the senior hallway, I should just do it?"  
  
"Absolutely.  You know I love breaking PDA."  Riku leaned his head into the touch, hoping to encourage it.  "And then we'd get to spend a week in detention together, just you and me."  
  
Sora laughed softly, shifting a bit closer, and he was starting to relax.  Good.  "What if I wanted to kiss you right now?"  
  
"Even better."  Which meant, of course, _yes, please, and keep doing that to my hair while you're at it_.  
  
Riku waited, because he was pretty sure that for now, at least, Sora was more comfortable initiating things himself.  Which was absolutely fine, so long as it meant further kissing and cuddling.  Riku could deal with that, no problem.  He could deal with his arm falling asleep and the fingers that had stilled yet again in his hair because Sora was shifting down slowly, so they were level with each other.  The movement against the bedcovers beneath them caused his shirt to hike up just a bit, exposing a good inch of tanned skin just below where his hands were resting on Sora's back, and the awareness of this made him wish, quite suddenly, that this was going just a teensy bit faster--because that skin was begging to have fingers trail over it.  Just.  Begging.  
  
"Hm."  
  
Riku drew his attention reluctantly away and realized that Sora's eyes were level with his--that, in fact, he really couldn't see anything else aside from a few stray brown spikes and the bridge of his nose.  "Something funny?"  
  
"Well, if you told me a week ago that today I'd be kissing you for real..."  
  
"Hm.  Wanna make out in the locker room sometime?"  
  
"No," Sora murmured, and Riku could only see the smile through his eyes.  "The locker room is for fake kisses."  
  
 _This is real._  
  
It started out slowly enough, tentative and inquisitive and a little bit experimental--on Sora's part, anyway.  Riku was being good, and being patient, and running his hands soothingly over Sora's back.  And that was nice, really.  
  
At some point, though, his patience broke and he ran his tongue along the part of Sora's lips, and Sora _gasped_ \--and the sound was small and needy and his breath was hot on his cheek and as suddenly as that, there was no more slow.  
  
And as suddenly as that, Sora was very, very warm against him, and his tongue was--oh, and he tasted like sugar cone and he shivered, he _shivered_ , entire body against Riku's and god--and that skin was under his fingers, small noise in Sora's throat as they trailed lightly over the small of his back, up a little further under the fabric of his shirt, and Sora's hands were curled in his hair and their legs were tangled with each other and shifting against each other deliciously and he was _so warm_ \--  
  
And there were little pants of breath into each other's mouths, and Sora kept pressing just a little closer to him... just a _little_ closer...  
  
He wanted.  He probably could, he could shift them and roll Sora beneath him and press more, feel that warmth under and around him, trail his lips down to Sora's neck and nibble until he arched up, slip his hands further up and push that shirt off and away, so much skin to explore with fingers and lips and tongue to find out what kind of noises he would make _here_ , or _there_.  Could, probably.  
  
He wanted, and so he slowed down, just a little.  Trailed his fingers up and down along Sora's spine and enjoyed the little shivers.  Kissed him long and deep and slow and enjoyed the little gasps of air and the occasional soft whimper.  And Sora relaxed in his arms, and Sora stroked his hair in slow little circles, and that was good enough.  
  
It was more than good enough.  It was _perfect_.  
  
(And his arm had definitely fallen asleep, but Riku didn't care.)


	9. Hunger Strike

**9:  Hunger Strike**  
  
Roxas arrived home that evening around the time the world was starting to dim with twilight.  He was still hot and sweating from the half-pipe, flannel hung over his head as an impromptu coat rack, and he thought it rather big of himself to have called it a night and turned down what would probably have been a thoroughly enjoyable toke circle in favor of coming home to see how Sora was doing and how his date had gone.  Not that he was really all that interested--really--but teasing the kid had become a rather enjoyable pastime.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he walked through the door, but finding Sora pasted securely between Riku and the wall had probably not been on the list of possibilities.  
  
Oh yeah, they were kissing.  Thank god.  
  
He eased the door shut behind himself, taking a quick peek out at the hall to make sure no passerby had caught a glimpse of what was going on inside.  He set his skateboard carefully in its nook by the door, then knelt down to untie his shoes and nudged them into place alongside the board with his toes.  He sidestepped the murmuring tangle of boys against the wall (man, they were _seriously_ into it) and tossed his flannel into the wardrobe, then stretched and wandered over to his desk to pick through the little pile of books hidden behind the stereo.  He probably needed to make a trip to the thrift store again, as all but one in his pile had already been skimmed at the very least.  
  
He chanced a look over his shoulder.  Yup, still kissing.  
  
Roxas took a seat at his desk and considered his options.  There had to be a hundred classic lines to break this kind of thing up.  He, being the master, was sure to find the perfect one.  'Yanno, if you keep doing that too long you'll get stuck that way.'  Or maybe, 'I hear that after ten minutes the brain dies without oxygen.'  Hmm, that was good.  
  
What ended up happening, though, was that his stereo went silent as the song it was playing came to and end, and that silence was followed by the same song beginning again.  Huh.  
  
What he ended up saying, then, was:  "Why is _Undone_ playing on repeat?"  Which may not have been the coolest line ever, but it got the intended result.  
  
It was like some invisible strings had jerked the two away from each other--or like how on those old cartoons, if someone was performing really badly on stage, a cane would appear from behind the curtains to sweep them away.  Kind of like that, almost with one of those cartoon 'yoink' sounds to top it off.  It was fantastic and almost tragic by how pained the both of them looked; both of them looking, in fact, directly at him now, and Riku was... fuck.  _Blushing_.  _Riku_.  Was.  _Blushing_.  
  
Victory.  
  
Sora was just kind of... shivering way too much, and his eyes were way too wide, and he had the look of someone who had been about half a million miles away before being propelled back to the present at light speed.  He almost made Roxas feel bad.  Almost.  But it was greatly outweighed by the fact that _Riku_ was _blushing_.  He would never get over that.  Ever.  
  
"I've been here for, like, ten minutes guys," Roxas clarified from his desk, settling both hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair in total satisfaction.  Nothing quite like shattering a mood, the pieces of it were just too pretty.  
  
It only lasted for a moment, though--a brief, shining, triumphant moment--because Riku's blush promptly vanished and his face promptly dropped into a scowl.  Sora finally got a bearing on himself and started breathing normally, and reached up to scratch at his bangs awkwardly.  "Um, I think I kind of messed up your stereo, Rox.  It won't stop."  
  
Roxas nodded slowly at this and reached out with one hand, not even looking at the button he pressed.  The song ground to a halt right in the middle of the word 'sweater'.  The CD player whirred and shut itself off.  
  
Riku's scowl deepened, like he knew he'd just been snubbed.  "Wow, you can operate your own stereo.  You're hot shit, Roxas."  And by that, of course, he meant: _You interrupted my steamy makeout session with Sora, therefore I am a whiny bitch._  
  
"Get over yourself, jackass."  And by that, what Roxas meant was: _That's okay, I forgive you._  
  
"Wait, who's the jackass, here?  Me, or the guy who never learned how to knock?"  _You may forgive me for being a whiny bitch, however, I also happen to be a snide bastard with a superiority complex and this is why we have never gotten along._  
  
"I happen to _live_ here.  I'm not knocking on my own goddamn door."  _Maybe we could have, dipshit, if you had_ ever once _bothered looking at me the way you look at_ him.  
  
...What was it he'd said to Riku the other day, about resentment?  Huh, maybe pots and kettles really were black, after all.  
  
"Guys," Sora said, and it was soft and directed at the floor and what _he_ meant by that was: _If you don't stop fighting this instant, neither of you are going to enjoy any more of my time, love or attention._  
  
Riku, smart guy that he was on occasion, caught that second-meaning too, and they both shut their mouths simultaneously, teeth clicking quietly in the silence the stereo and their voices left behind.  And simultaneously, the staredown they'd been having broke, Riku turned to face Sora and Roxas turned to face his desk and opened the CD player, pulling out the blue album and replacing it in its case, then shuffling through the piles on his desk to find something else to play.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow," Riku said softly, somewhere behind him.  
  
"M'k," Sora murmured back, and it was too fucking perfect, the tight, brief little smacking sounds of lips meeting and parting.  Once, and then twice, of course, and then a third time, lingering, and finally a fourth, because who could resist, anyway.  
  
When the door finally swung closed, Roxas let out a breath and had to uncurl his fingers before he crushed _Superunknown_ in a fist.  It took some restraint to not slam the cover of the CD player closed and to not jam his finger against the play button.  It took some more restraint to launch himself up to the top bunk without destroying the entire bed in the process.  As a side thought, he knew that Sora was still kind of hovering by the door and still kind of giddy and still kind of totally _lost_ for this guy.  A little awkward and a little vulnerable and totally ripe for teasing, but what was Roxas doing?  
  
Roxas was lying on his bed with his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling with his teeth clenched behind his mouth, wishing he'd just stayed for the goddamn toke circle and got totally fucking baked.  He blamed Riku for this entirely.  He blamed Sora a little bit, too, but mostly Riku--because no matter how many times he wracked his brain he just could not figure it out.  What the fuck he might have done to make the guy _hate_ him with that kind of enthusiasm.  
  
Usually, when he thought about this, he came to the conclusion that his mere existence triggered the hate, because there was just no other explanation.  Usually, when he thought about that, he played the Unplugged album on repeat for a few hours until his brain turned to mush.  
  
Today, however, his brain lacked in mushiness, and instead offered him a strange and random question:  
  
 _If you could keep one of them for yourself, which one would you pick?_  
  
He considered this and considered the ceiling for a few minutes, and then his body relaxed abruptly and his teeth un-grit themselves and he even smiled, just a bit.  
  
Answer:  _Neither._  
  
So when Roxas dropped down to sit on Sora's bunk, his inner Moody and Angry Brat was gone, and when he leaned on his elbows to stare Sora down, smirking expectantly, it was a good-natured (mostly) tease.  And when Sora balked and rubbed the back of his head, Roxas laughed at his expense, because there was nothing quite like having a best friend.  
  
He realized it was the first time he'd thought of Sora that way.  The thought felt comfortably right in his head, and he decided to keep it.  
  
  
  
  
  
"So--wait, he pushed you on the swings?"  Roxas was focused on the noodles being twined onto his fork rather than the half-embarrassed, half-indignant expression Sora figured he was wearing.  As he was, actually, caught in an emotion somewhere halfway between those two things.  "That's very manly.  Really."  
  
"You're not listening--again," Sora muttered, reaching out to jab him in the shoulder and steal the hotpot back.  "It was the _tire_ swing, and he twisted it up and then let go."  
  
Roxas nodded a little while chewing his mouthful of ramen, then finally raised his fork in a gesture of understanding.  "Oh, right.  I remember doing that before--you know, when I was _five_."  He chuckled and jabbed Sora in return and leaned back against the wall.  "No, I get it.  Got you dizzy.  Clever."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Well, it is."  
  
Sora huffed and pushed himself off of his bunk, carting the forks and hotpot to the bathroom sink where he'd probably forget to wash them until he needed to run the tap in the morning.  Nothing like procrastination.  "I don't think I want to tell you any more."  
  
"Oh come on, So-ra."  Roxas wriggled down on the mattress until his feet were propped against the lower frame and the rest of him was on his back, hands behind his head.  "Who else is gonna listen to you?  Skip the boring parts, though.  When did the kissing start?"  
  
"We're not discussing that."  
  
"Okay then, baseball metaphors.  First base?  Clearly."  Roxas nodded to the top bunk seriously, eyes swiveling to the side to take in Sora's expression and turn his evil smirk up full force.  
  
Sora, in retaliation, settled back onto his pillow and prepared a scowl in response.  "Duh."  
  
"Second then."  Roxas's smirk grew wider until it was very nearly the Christmas-morning grin.  "Maybe... third?"  
  
" _No_."  
  
"So, just second."  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you kidding me?"  Roxas halfway sat up, on his elbows, and there was no grin anymore.  Sora thought he ought to be glad for that, at least.  "Do you _know_ what you two looked like when I walked in?  His tongue was somewhere around your spleen, and _you_ were trying to crawl into his skin.  It was practically mid-coitus."  
  
Sora closed his teeth around the inside of his cheek, chewing idly and doing his best to not think too hard about the implications of that.  It was a nice kiss--hell, it was a really, _really_ nice kiss and had given him little shivers that made his knees weak but it wasn't like that.  It really wasn't, and thus he said so.  "It wasn't like that."  
  
Roxas rolled his eyes like maybe he actually believed a fraction of that.  "Well then, what was it like?"  
  
"We just kissed, okay?"  Just kissed in ways that reminded him of chocolate mint and fingers settling along the dip of his spine.  Hair under his palms.  Warmth.  Sora squirmed in his seat and curled his hands in the hem of his shorts, looking anywhere but at the ice-blue stare waiting for a response.  "And like... cuddled some, I guess."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Seriously."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
" _Cuddled?_ "  
  
Sora flushed red and scowled and refused to dignify that with a response.  
  
"Huh."  Roxas remained in place for a moment, mouth slightly open and blinking at Sora, then dropped back to his back and resumed his contemplation of the underside of the top bunk, arms falling limply across his stomach.  He stared for a long time, one foot moving from the bedframe to kick idly at the cornerpost while whatever was turning over in his mind continued to do so.  
  
After ten minutes or so, Sora considered kicking him off the bed and crashing early.  
  
But when Roxas moved, it was with an abrupt and exuberant urgency that woke up the entire room like turning on a spotlight.  He was across the room and pulling on his shoes before Sora could even utter a baffled "Huh?"  
  
And tying his shoes Roxas certainly was, and grabbing a flannel out of the wardrobe, and grabbing his skateboard from its spot by the door.  Sora screwed up his face into something like a puzzled frown.  "Going somewhere?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It's a school night, you know.  Lights out at eleven."  
  
"I know."  But instead of opening the door and tromping out for... whatever, Sora had no freaking clue what Roxas might need to leave the dorm for at this time of night--he turned and marched back across the room to the window.  
  
At this point, Sora knew with a gut-clenching certainty that this _whatever_ was not going to end well.  Knowing this, he immediately launched himself off the bed and caught his wayward roommate by the flannel.  "Okay-- _whoa_.  Um, _no_."  
  
"Yes."  Roxas ignored his new attachment and pushed the window open.  
  
Sora's voice was a strained whisper.  "Dude, lights out is at--"  
  
"So shove some pillows under my blankets or something.  All they do is peek inside."  Roxas smirked over his shoulder and neatly tugged his clothing away, pressing his skateboard into Sora's hands.  "Toss this to me when I get down."  
  
"But you _can't_ \--"  
  
"I'll be back by morning."  And Roxas grinned, one leg slung out the window, and there was this... _wild_ light in his eyes that made Sora just nod mutely, and watch mutely as he clambered down the tree and mutely toss the skateboard down when he'd landed at the bottom and lifted his hands to catch it.  
  
At that point, however, he found his voice--even if it was mostly just a stage whisper.  "If you're not here by the time we're supposed to leave for school, I'll never forgive you."  
  
"You worry too much."  Roxas chuckled and disappeared into the dark.  
  
Only to reappear a second later.  "Oh yeah, Sora!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Call Kairi!"  
  
"Oh crap."  
  
Sora slapped a hand across his forehead and groaned to himself, and thus the last he saw or heard of Roxas that night was the sound of a skateboard on concrete, fading away underneath the chirp of crickets and the hum of music on the stereo.  
  
  
  
  
  
If he closed his eyes long enough, Sora could picture the little white stucco cottage on Sunfield Ave, in the middle of the Village, the lipstick-red poppies that drooped over the front steps and the exact sound of the porch swing creaking under his and Kairi's combined weight.  He kept his eyes closed, and remembered the bushy humps of palm trees along the edge of the sky where they lined a road several blocks distant.  Imagined the damp heat of summer lingering into the evening, the buzz of cicadas in the background, and this is what was in his mind when her voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Took you long enough."  
  
"I was kind of distracted," he said in defense of both himself and Riku, who was damn distracting.  He could almost smell the ocean.  
  
"Like that's news to me."  She laughed, softly, and he could picture exactly how her eyes would squint when she did it, how the corners of her mouth would turn up and her teeth would show, straight and white around the sound.  She'd have one leg pulled up and curled under her, tan cross of calves and a slouch at her midsection, down enough that she could tilt her head back and rest it against the back of the swing.  Half-empty cup at her side, sweating in the heat and ice knocking around inside, her fingernails tapping against the paper.  Bright purple nail polish.  She'd talk like a guy, not facing him but watching the porch roof as it swung back and forth above them.  "And here I thought phone dates weren't that big of a deal."  
  
He didn't say anything for a few minutes, so focused on the image in his head he thought that maybe speaking would make it shatter.  "Hey, Kai--" he murmured finally, and paused again.  Watched how his mental Kairi tilted her eyes to one side to look at him.  "You remember the party?"  
  
"The party?"  
  
"You know-- _the_ party.  Last day of school."  
  
She laughed again--more of a cackle this time, bright and mischievous.  "Are you kidding?  I'm still grounded.  Well, not really, but you'd think that, some days."  Her laugh faded into a sigh, faded into silence and once it was clear he wasn't going to say anything further she murmured, "You're homesick, huh?"  
  
"I guess.  I was just thinking, you know... that was kind of our last hurrah."  Sora shifted a bit on his back, heard the bedsprings squeak under him and tried to keep it from spoiling his imaginary setting.  "I told Riku a little bit.  Not much, really."  
  
"Oh."  He could hear her smiling, soft under the porch light and teasing.  "You really do like him, huh?"  
  
Sora licked his lips.  "Yeah."  
  
"You should tell him."  Kairi's voice was decisive, swish against the phone's mouthpiece almost like a nod alongside it.  "That reminds me.  Leon was asking about you."  
  
Sora's eyes snapped open abruptly, vision shattering and sputtering something nonsensical.  " _Leon_?"  
  
"He totally misses you."  
  
"He--did he actually _say_ that?"  He stared down sideways at the phone like it had been possessed (much like Riku's car and Roxas's stereo, perhaps there were some kind of mechanically-inclined demons roaming the area) and had begun speaking in tongues in Kairi's sweet voice.  
  
"Of course not."  The eyeroll was present in her voice; because really, it was _Leon_.  "I was informed by my female intuition that the phrase 'how's your brat?' actually means 'Hey have you talked to Sora at all and is he doing okay and my life is totally hellish without him around to beat me at hockey every weekend'."  
  
Sora closed his eyes again and groaned, rubbing his forehead.  "Kairi..."  
  
"I'm serious!  You know he and Cloud are both going to Cal State, right?"  She paused just long enough that Sora could imagine her eyebrows drawing down gradually until her mouth followed and pulled into a frown.  "You _have_ been calling Cloud every once in a while, right?"  
  
"We're guys.  We don't call each other, we pass messages between mutual female friends."  He smiled a little, hand sliding down over his eyes.  "Tell him I said hi."  
  
Kairi made a tight, exasperated noise, presumably at the ridiculousness of boys in general.  "And here I thought after all this time you might've caught some of my girl-germs."  
  
"I think you killed any possibility of rubbing off back in fifth grade when you made me go to school in mascara and lip gloss.  Years of therapy, Kairi.  _Years_."  
  
Her laughter faded again, after a while, and for a long time they were silent, content with simply being connected over the phone line.  Eventually Sora rolled onto his side, receiver sandwiched between his ear and the pillow.  "S'getting late."  
  
"You gonna crash?"  
  
"Not yet," he grumbled, rolling over and pushing himself to his feet.  "I have to make it look like my roommate's actually sleeping in his bed, first."  
  
She snickered in his ear.  "Snuck out, huh?"  
  
"Goodnight, Kai."  
  
Her voice was a hum on the line, like cicadas and ocean salt on the air.  "Night, Sora."  
  
  
  
  
  
It was the noise that woke him up.  Some kind of buzzing, like a black fly trapped between a window and closed venetian blinds.  An annoying buzzing that would start and then stop, and then inevitably start again, because flies were fucking stupid and could never figure out that no matter _how_ many times they beat themselves against a window, they would never get outside.  
  
So initially, Roxas just muttered something not fully formed that was probably about stupid flies and their stupid windows, and shifted onto his side, and waited for the solid warmth beside him to shift along with him in accommodation (because dorm beds were really, really narrow and required some cooperative movement for comfort), then tugged the blankets straight and pressed his face into the pillow with every intent of going right back to sleep.  
  
The buzzing stopped for a while, and he dozed.  Then it started again.  He tried to growl something sleepy into the pillow, but it probably came out more as a whine.  
  
"I think that's your cell phone," the warmth murmured against the back of his neck.  
  
Roxas cussed halfheartedly and continued to ignore it, relaxing under the arm that snaked around his waist and the sleep-weary kiss pressed against his shoulder.  The buzzing stopped and he slid back into his comfortable doze.  
  
Then it started again.  
  
"Think you better get that," the warmth mumbled and nudged him in the ribs.  Roxas groaned and lifted his head off the pillow, rubbed sleep from his eyes enough to open them and squinted at the room around him, just beginning to gray with dawn.  The buzzing was coming from the floor.  He reached down off the bed and felt around for it, tugging aside some discarded clothing before his hand found the cold plastic shape of his cell.  
  
He pulled the antenna up with his teeth, flipped it open and punched the button without opening his eyes enough to look at it, flopping back onto his pillow.  The warmth nuzzled back into his neck and placed a few slightly more awake kisses along it.  "H'lo."  
  
"ROXAS, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"  
  
He winced and held the phone away from his ear for a second until he was sure the yelling was complete, then turned his brain on enough to take in the voice and the sound of water running in the background.  "...Sora?"  
  
"DON'T YOU 'SORA' ME, GOD DAMMIT, DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?"  
  
He hissed and held the phone away again, rubbing his eyes some more.  "Are you calling me from the shower?"  
  
Sora didn't seem to care what he had to say, however, as he immediately launched back into his tirade.  "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT TIME IT IS, ROXAS, IT'S SEVEN O'CLOCK!"  
  
Roxas let the words seep into his half-asleep brain.  Roxas considered them carefully.  Then Roxas, with absolutely no dignity and hair like a rat's nest on a Monday morning, fully woke in a span of milliseconds and shot straight out of bed.  "Oh, _shit_."  
  
"OH SHIT IS RIGHT."  
  
He put up a good effort of trying to pull his clothes back on while holding the phone to his ear, but determined rather quickly that this wasn't going to work.  "I'm on my way, okay?"  
  
"YOU GODDAMN WELL BETTER BE OR I _WILL_ BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU AND DISOWN YOUR ASS ON THE STREET."  Click.  Dial tone.  
  
Note to self: never piss off Sora.  Again.  
  
He found his boxers and his pants but was at a loss for where his socks had ended up, and when he finally looked back to the bed he'd vacated for assistance, all he got in return was Axel leaning against the wall with a cigarette, eyes watching his every movement and mouth curled up in an amused, toothy smirk.  
  
"What's so damn funny?"  
  
"I think your socks are under the desk."  Axel let out a breath of smoke and stretched his legs out in front of him, feet sticking out from under the sheets, toes wiggling.  He looked too damn good for seven AM--maybe because his hair was always a flame-red mess no matter what time of day it happened to be.  On this particular morning it was still mostly in the loose, half-assed French braid he always tied it back in to keep it out of the way when it became clear that sex was going to happen.  That must be it--he was having a sex-braid-hair morning.  "And by the way--since when do _you_ get all fired about being late for school?"  
  
"It's not school, Axel, it's room checks, and they're in fifteen minutes."  Roxas stalked over to the desk to grab his socks, then his shirt off the back of the chair, then his shoes and plopped down on an empty spot on the bed to pull them all on.  "And if I'm not there with Sora we're both fucked."  
  
"So, just to make sure I've got this down," Axel intoned somewhere behind him, voice approaching a low purr, "you're leaving me and my bed at seven in the morning because you don't want your roomie to get in trouble."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The room was silent for the space it took for Roxas to tie his shoelaces, and when he finished with that and turned around Axel's eyes were glimmering green at him in the dim light from the desk lamp, some kind of staggered expression on his face.  "What?"  
  
"So," Axel said slowly, flicking his cigarette against the ashtray perched on his knee, "when's the wedding?"  
  
Roxas rolled his eyes and climbed across the bed, setting the ashtray  and smoldering cigarette carefully aside on the windowsill so that no unintentional fires were started when he kissed Axel, hard, fingers twining in his sex-braid bed hair.  He tasted like smoke and morning breath, but Roxas was used to both, and used to the hand that curled around his neck to pull him closer and used to the way Axel nipped at his lips before letting him go.  
  
"I'm curious, not jealous," Axel said simply and waved him off, collecting his cigarette back.  "You better jet."  
  
Roxas pressed their foreheads together and smiled against his lips.  "Oh?"  
  
"You always come back," he said, like saying that the world was round; leaned back and blew a smoke ring at Roxas's head.  
  
And, well, he was right.  
  
He found his flannel and his skateboard last and carried both to the window, tossing the sash up and halfway out before he heard Axel laughing again.  
  
"What's so funny _this_ time?"  
  
"You and your window fetish."  Axel was sitting at the edge of the bed now, and was three-quarters fantastically naked.  "You could just tell the housing office the truth, you know.  Come and go by the front door like a normal person."  
  
Roxas grinned and kicked his other leg out the window, shifting in preparation to jump the four feet to the grass below--and thank god Axel had a ground-floor room this year, climbing the drainpipe had gotten old fast.  "But that wouldn't be nearly as much fun," he explained simply, and Axel chuckled against the butt of his cigarette.  
  
He wanted to kiss him, one more time--just once more--but the clock was ticking and Sora was fucking _pissed_ , so he imagined kissing Axel instead and jumped down.  
  
It was almost as good.  Almost.  
  
  
  
  
  
There were a grand total of three people in the world who had ever seen Sora when he was really, really angry.  So far, they had all lived to tell the tale, but Roxas was pushing it.  
  
That morning was a proverbial photo finish.  They were down to seconds by the time Roxas appeared on the ground under the window and fractions of seconds by the time he'd tossed his skateboard up and clambered up the tree and some unit of time too small to be measured when he pushed the window closed behind himself.  
  
At this precise point, the RA knocked on the door.  
  
Sora answered it all smiles and sunlight--why yes, we're both up and ready for the day.  No, we won't be late, don't worry!  And then the door closed and he turned around.  
  
Roxas was pretty sure the lights in the room dimmed all on their own and Sora's eyes turned a glowing red.  Could have been his imagination, though.  He feigned innocence at first, smiling broadly and laughing softly and rubbing a hand through his trainwreck of a head of hair like it was all a cute, fun joke.  
  
Then he turned tail and ducked into the bathroom before lightning struck him or something.  
  
"You said you'd be back by morning," Sora hissed.  
  
Roxas stuck his head under the faucet to try and alleviate some of his bedhead.  "It's morning, and I'm here."  
  
"I had to stand in here with the shower on full blast so I could properly scream at you, you know."  
  
The water was followed by a towel, which was followed by Roxas grimacing at the mirror.  "Nice of you to think so highly of me."  
  
Sora was still advancing on him, across the bathroom's tiled floor, arms crossed--and you could practically see the dark energy rolling off him in waves.  Like one of those Asian cartoons.  "The warning bell rings in ten minutes.  And you--"  Sora paused abruptly, frowning (although he was already scowling, the frown was just slightly different) and wrinkling his nose.  "And you smell like--"  
  
There was a long pause then, in the bathroom, the sound of the tap running echoing around in the silence.  
  
Then Sora grabbed the towel off the counter and proceeded to thwack him with it.  Repeatedly.  
  
"GODDAMN YOU ROXAS, YOU WERE OUT ALL FUCKING NIGHT GETTING LAID!"  Sora didn't so much shriek as yell at the top of his lungs, and it should be noted that with each successive word he smacked Roxas with the towel on whatever body part happened to be available.  By the end of it, Roxas was scrunched against the wall with his arms covering his face (and hands covering his hair, because God knows that had already suffered enough abuse for one morning).  When it appeared to be over he peeked out slightly at Sora's red and angry glare, teeth set in a tight grimace, and grinned.  
  
Sora thwacked him again.  
  
"Fuck, Sora, just because you can't even get to third base with your boyfriend doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer."  Roxas caught the towel in one hand as it descended yet again and yanked it away, replacing it over the rack and running both hands through his hair until it spiked up in something approaching an acceptable manner.  
  
"That's not the point, Rox," Sora insisted, following him out of the bathroom with fists clenched at his side like maybe he was meant to be threatening, but he actually looked indignant and slightly pouty.  "You were _this close_ ," he held up a thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth from each other to indicate his meaning and ruined the moment by draping his rollerblades around his neck, "to getting us both put on house arrest--for the sake of an _orgasm_.  What the hell."  
  
"Three."  
  
Sora paused with his backpack halfway to his shoulders.  "Huh?"  
  
"Three," Roxas repeated, smirking and tucking his skateboard under one arm and pushing past him to the door, one hand on Sora's chest just over the Nike schwa.  Sora blinked, then appeared to catch his meaning as he made a half-choked sound and his eyes widened comically.  "We're gonna have to cut through the fields at a run, right?  Let's go."  
  
Sora remained frozen in place for a moment, then darted after him just as the door started swinging closed.  He didn't say anything further until they were at the head of the stairs, dormitory nearly silent as the rest of the students had actually left in something like a timely manner.  
  
What Sora said was something like, "Um," followed by him lifting one hand and tapping his own neck with one finger, just at the curve of shoulder, eyes darting to the side meaningfully.  Roxas made an exasperated noise and pulled the collar of his flannel higher, and made another mental note to remind Axel not to leave hickeys where they showed.  Dammit.


	10. Girls & Boys

**10:  Girls & Boys**  
  
The first bell was going to ring in five minutes.  Sora was focused on this fact, intently, steering himself firmly in the direction of his locker and failing to pay attention to whether or not Roxas was still holding onto his backpack (although if he still was he'd be in trouble with a teacher shortly for skateboarding in the halls--again), and thus not paying attention to the other students in the hall making their way to first period or their lockers or wherever they happened to be headed.  And ultimately, not paying attention to much of anything at all--and this, he would learn shortly, was probably not the best approach to Monday mornings.  
  
"SORA!"  
  
This is how the girl-entity closed in on him from behind.  He was pinned to the trophy display at the head of the senior hallway this time, the glass behind him creaking dangerously, and somehow--he discovered this, having been brought abruptly to full awareness--Roxas was equally pinned against his shoulder.  
  
This was about to get interesting.  
  
"Good morning, Sora!"  The girls cooed as one, all glitter and smiles and clasped hands.  
  
"Hello, Roxas," the girls declared again in unison, but the glitter seemed to fade and eyes narrowed and smiles flipped to disapproving scowls.  
  
Roxas wisely gave no response, but instead tried to move further behind Sora's shoulder, sliding down slightly against the glass and clutching his skateboard protectively.  "Sora...." he hissed after the entity showed no intention of releasing either of them, "the pink is _touching_ me..."  
  
Sora, however, paid no mind to his roommate's apparent suffering.  He'd been out all night GETTING LAID anyway, he could damn well deal with female proximity for once.  "Good morning," he returned with a sweet smile, hoping that his personal brand of cute might allow him to actually get to class on time.  Maybe.  
  
The girls, however, were focused on the other boy they'd captured, the one who was _not_ smiling sweetly--who, in fact, was squirming in a rather unmanly way and trying to climb inside Sora's shirt sleeve to escape.  "We heard a very disturbing story, Roxas," one of the girls chimed, and the others nodded in agreement.  
  
"We heard that you were arguing with Riku in the parking lot after school on Friday," the leader clarified, leaning in close to poke at his chest--although with his board clutched against it she actually ended up poking a skull sticker.  
  
Sora's smile fell abruptly and he looked across his shoulder at Roxas, who was starting to look a little pale.  "You were?"  
  
Roxas had the decency to look guilty, mouth opening to explain but the girls elbowed in immediately.  
  
"Now look, you've upset Sora!"  
  
"What've you got to fight with Riku about, anyway?"  
  
"We know you've been hanging around Sora a lot lately!"  
  
"Yeah, Roxas, you better not be trying to come between him and Riku!"  
  
Roxas finally sputtered at them, though still not brave enough to venture out beyond Sora's shoulder.  "Why the hell would I want to do that?"  
  
The girls paused.  The girls hummed as one with fingers tapping against pastel-painted lips.  
  
"Well, you might want Sora for yourself.  Or you might want Riku for yourself."  
  
"Or you might be jealous of their love and just want to destroy it."  
  
"Or you might think that Riku isn't good enough for Sora, and decided you had to step in."  
  
"OR!"  One girl clapped and giggled and the others paused to hear whatever had gotten her so excited.  "Maybe you secretly love them BOTH but you're too afraid to say anything because you don't think they'd be comfortable with a three-way relationship, and the frustration of hiding your secret desires is manifesting as misdirected aggression!"  
  
The entity considered this for a moment, then let out a unanimous squeal of approval.  
  
Roxas made a nervous kind of noise that failed somewhere along the path approaching a laugh, and turned to Sora hopefully.  "Do you have _any_ idea what they're talking about?"  
  
Sora, however, was still wearing his fallen smile and had no attention for the girls and whatever silly idea they'd gotten into their heads this time.  "Why were you fighting with him again?"  
  
"Maybe because he was being a dick _again_ ," Roxas spat back and scowled, nearly jerking away until he remembered that there was a wall of pink on his other side.  
  
"Don't talk that way about him."  Sora managed to get the phrase in before the girls could declare the same indignantly, which surprised everyone involved, including himself.  
  
Instead, the girls nodded in solidarity.  The leader smirked and leaned forward again.  "I think Roxas might need some more singing lessons."  
  
"Oh no.  Thanks."  Roxas waved one hand at the offer and leaned a little closer to Sora.  "A little help here, maybe?"  
  
Sora shook his head and repeated himself.  "Why were you fighting with him?"  
  
"Dammit--"  
  
"I think you should answer his question, Roxas," the leader warned, close enough now that Roxas could probably see the sparkles in her eyeliner.  "The school choir could always use a new tenor, you know."  
  
Roxas made a noise that was something like a squeak mixed with a hacking cough, and the glass behind him made a noise rather like the prelude to cracking into a million pieces, and he held up one finger alongside his board in supplication, free hand grabbing Sora's arm.  "Could you just give us one minute?"  
  
He didn't wait for the girls to offer their blessing, just jerked Sora around to face him, the skates around his neck clacking against each other in a kind of soundtrack to the movement; then paused abruptly, patting him idly on the shoulder.  "Okay, look, Sora--I don't think I've told you this, but... you know, you're kind of like a brother to me."  
  
Sora could think of nothing to say in response, brain playing early-morning catch-up with the bizarre turn in conversation, as it was already largely focused on the fact that Roxas and Riku were fighting, _again_ , and that something really needed to be done about this.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the girls were watching this display with wide eyes, and also that he was definitely tardy for first period by now.  
  
So what he said was:  "Oh?"  
  
"Yes."  Roxas nodded solemnly, clasping his shoulder in something like reassurance.  "And that's why I want you to know I am deeply, deeply sorry for what I'm about to do."  
  
And by the time Sora had caught up with _that_ , he was being thrust forward into the press of sparkles and pink while Roxas declared loudly, "RIKU AND SORA WENT ON A DATE YESTERDAY!"  
  
The girls shrieked.  The final bell rang.  Sora was plastered against the complaining plate glass and Roxas, he noted with a betrayed scowl, had squirmed away and was a blur of flannel and skateboard sprinting down the senior hall--whether to class or to his bathroom, Sora didn't know or care.  Either way, revenge would come sweetly calling for him in due time.  
  
That time would not be now, however, as some of the girls appeared to be on the edge of hyperventilation.  
  
"OH MY GOD Sora you have to tell us everything!"  
  
"Where did you go?  To the movies?  Did you hold hands?  Did you--OHHHHHH did you make out in the back of the theater?"  
  
"No no no, Riku's a _romantic_ , it must have been a quiet candlelight dinner followed by slow dancing to classic love ballads and--and--and a bed strewn with rose petals!"  
  
"Please, Sora, tell us!"  
  
"Um," Sora attempted, slightly disturbed by that mental image and fairly sure that rose petals on a bed would just end up getting places they ought not to be, "we just went for a walk."  
  
"Oh," the entity intoned, considering this.  
  
They weren't satisfied, however--Sora would have to give them a better tidbit of information to tide them over.  But it would not, under any circumstances, be the kiss.  That was his.  Instead, he shrugged his shoulders up a little, offering his best shy smile--perfect, a little embarrassed, a little reluctant, and quietly pleased.  He was getting way too good at this.  "It was... kind of nice."  
  
The girls gasped as one, hands flying over their mouths in a flutter like a flock of birds taking off.  
  
"Ohhh, Sora's warming up!"  
  
"So cute!  So shy!"  
  
"Eeeeee, I can't wait to hear what happens next!  See you later, Sora."  
  
And with that, the wall of pink parted and allowed him to continue on to class (which he was now five minutes late for).  Stumbling at a half-run down the hall, Sora considered that this wasn't so difficult after all.  Keeping the space between the fake relationship and the real one.  
  
Roxas, however, was still due for some righteous vengeance.  
  
  
  
  
  
In retrospect, Roxas probably should have known better than to take refuge in his bathroom stall.  Although, to be fair, he had every reason for doing so--he was wearing the same clothes he had the day previous, his hair was an irreparable mess, and despite the aftershave he'd slapped on that morning he _still_ smelled like sex.  Due to the morning's events, he suspected he might also smell rather like pink around the edges.  
  
Shudder.  
  
So, he was hiding--not necessarily from Sora, although that was certainly in line with the plan as Sora was most likely calling down death upon his head by now--from the student body at large, as being seen by anyone in his current state would quickly taint his reputation.  That, or result in awkward questions, which was almost as bad.  
  
He lit a cigarette and turned the page of his novel, and considered faking sick with the nurse and spending the afternoon at the thrift shop.  He really needed some new titles.  
  
Maybe he could drag Sora along.  Kid could stand to dress for the weather once in a while.  
  
"Roxas."  
  
The voice outside his stall was far, far too sweet and innocent.  He instantly checked to make sure the stall door was locked, although that wouldn't necessarily keep the person on the other side from entering should he really, really want to.  "Hey, Sora."  
  
A pair of Nikes shifted back and forth in the space visible under the door.  "Would you let me in, please?"  
  
"Um."  Roxas considered this for all of point-three seconds.  "No, I think I'd rather not."  
  
"I really think you should."  
  
"No, I like my balls where they are, thanks."  
  
The Nikes tapped one toe impatiently, then abruptly turned to walk away, carrying their owner with them.  "Okay, then."  
  
Roxas almost sighed in relief--almost, but he suspected, rightfully, that there was no way he was going to get off that easily.  His suspicion was confirmed when the bathroom door opened wide, allowing entrance to the general noise of the senior hallway between periods.  
  
Oh, no.  He wouldn't.  
  
"Sorry, Roxas," Sora's voice was unduly loud, enough so to echo around the bathroom and undoubtedly to carry over whatever noise or conversation was occurring in the space outside.  It wasn't much, really, but it was enough that other students would hear--and if there was one thing that students in general did and did well, it was _talk_.  "I'll let you get back to reading your _romance novel_ now."  
  
Apparently, he would.  And did, in fact.  
  
The stall door slammed when Roxas shot out of it, All-Stars (the white ones today) skidding on the tiled floor but the door was already swinging slowly closed, a wave and Sora's smile disappearing behind it.  He wasn't entirely sure what he meant to do had he caught Sora, but dammit--he was worried about reputation before just because he looked like a mess on Monday morning?  Shit, this was going to _kill_ it.  
  
That little bastard.  
  
Despite himself, Roxas felt his mouth pulling into a smirk.  He was _good_.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku had thought, initially, that having fallen into the circumstance that left Sora as his 'pretend' boyfriend was probably heaven.  Sometime between third and fourth period, however, Riku revised this thought--because it turned out that no, having Sora as his _actual_ boyfriend was the real and true honest-to-god angels-with-golden-harps-singing euphoria-inducing _Heaven_ with a capital H.  The sky was clear and blue, the flowers were blooming (in the dead of November) and all around him woodland animals were breaking into perfectly harmonized song.  
  
"Riku."  
  
Sora had arrived late to chemistry that morning--Riku experienced a moment of sheer dejection when he hadn't appeared at his locker before class, as he'd hoped (maybe a little early, even; enough time to steal a few kisses in the janitor's closet, maybe).  He instantly forgave Sora anything and everything when, before even hurrying to the teacher for a tardy slip, he immediately paused inside the door to give Riku a bright, apologetic smile.  
  
"Yo.  Riku."  
  
The smile had said:  _Hey, baby, sorry I missed you this morning but stuff came up and you know I'd really, really like to jump in your lap and kiss you senseless right now but I don't think I'm down for PDA today, and besides this is chemistry, we'd probably end up getting corrosive liquid everywhere or something.  Oh, haha.  Chemistry.  Get it?  Aren't I completely fucking adorable and don't you want to jump my bones against the chalkboard right now?_  
  
"Riiiiikuuuuu..."  
  
Mmm, Sora against a chalkboard.  Sora pressed flush and warm against him.  Sora moaning against his tongue and arching into his touch and wrapping legs around his waist and--  
  
"HEY RIKU!"  
  
And how Tidus always managed to be the one to break through his Sora contemplations, Riku would never know.  "What?"  
  
"The warning bell rings in two minutes, and you're blocking the door, man."  Tidus gestured at him and the random surface he had chosen to lean against, which happened to be the door to the drama club dressing room, by some unknown chance.  
  
"Oh."  Riku made a point of saying that and shifting forward casually, hands in his pockets, like he knew exactly where he was and had not been wandering around in a daze.  Tidus, hands on his hips before him, was not buying it.  
  
"Okay, look man."  Tidus tugged him to the side as students began moving in and out through the door he'd been blocking and looked Riku over with a frown.  "I've been waiting all freaking week for you to show up here all with the 'I told you so!'"  Tidus made a swinging gesture with his hips and waved his hands on either side of himself while depicting the expected line, rolling his eyes when Riku failed to be impressed.  "I had a whole speech ready.  Something about erring on the side of caution--that's not the point.  The point is, you took too damn long and I had to memorize lines for _Antigone_ and now I don't remember it."  
  
Riku blinked.  "Sucks to be you."  
  
"You have no appreciation for theater, Riku.  I don't know why I continue to associate with you."  Tidus nodded to himself at this somberly, then proceeded to grab Riku by the elbow and drag him into the dressing room with him.  
  
"I don't know why you do, either," Riku responded dryly, worming away from the hand on his arm and plopping into his usual seat once inside.  "In fact, I think this should end."  
  
"You're not getting away that easily."  Tidus made a sweeping gesture towards the costume racks and Selphie appeared at his side, massive bundle of cloth in her arms and a tape measure sticking out of her mouth.  She made a noise that sounded like a greeting and attempted to wave, but both rather failed in light of her cargo.  
  
Riku waved back anyway.  "Hey Selph."  
  
Tidus, however, scowled.  "No costume fitting today.  Riku's here.  _Interrogation_ , Selphie, _interrogation_."  
  
"Not now, I have a class to go to."  Riku noted this as the warning bell rang, and at this point he was probably going to be tardy no matter what.  
  
"Psh."  Tidus waved away such concerns with one hand and a theatrical tilt of the head.  Riku thought the wave was a bit limp at the wrist, personally.  "We're seniors.  Who goes to class?"  
  
"It's English.  With _Sora_."  
  
There was a long pause and silence in the small room for a moment, after which the tardy bell rang, after which Tidus held up one hand in supplication.  "Ten minutes.  Seriously, Riku."  Then he turned to Selphie, still trying to mouth something around her tape measure.  "You still have those passes, right?  The ones Olette got?"  
  
"Mmmf mmn," Selphie replied.  
  
"Perfect.  Grab one."  
  
"Mmmfk."  
  
"And put that crap away, while you're at it."  
  
Selphie disappeared back into the costume racks and Tidus turned his attention back to Riku, one hand rubbing his chin in contemplation and shuffling forward, then to the side as though to look at the boy on the bench from another angle.  "Our dear Riku.  Outest of the out."  
  
"Stop saying that."  
  
"You seriously landed a jock."  Tidus paused and folded his arms over his chest, leaning over Riku to examine his hair, his profile, reached down and raised his arm to see if he had superior biceps.  
  
Riku rolled his eyes and snatched his hand away.  "I told you so."  
  
Tidus continued hovering, eyes narrowed.  "And he _likes_ you, and furthermore has no problem with publicly hooking up with you."  
  
"I wouldn't say there's no problem, the student body isn't exactly forgiving."  Riku smirked just a little.  "But--yeah, something like that."  
  
Tidus nodded to himself slowly.  Then abruptly dropped to his knees and adopted a deadly serious expression, taking Riku's hand between both of his.  "You must teach me your secrets."  
  
Riku rolled his eyes and made a huffing noise, standing abruptly and gathering his backpack.  "I'm going to class."  
  
"Oh, come on!  There's got to be something--aftershave?"  Tidus hopped up and followed him to the door.  "Flowers and candy?  Were you vague, were you direct, do you just let him top or what?  Come on!"  
  
"Later, Tidus."  
  
"Riku."  
  
The sudden seriousness in Tidus's voice--not his fake actor-seriousness but the _real_ kind--made Riku pause.  And, after a moment, grudgingly turn around.  Tidus was smiling and for once didn't look like he was about to break out into a musical number.  
  
"We're all kind of jealous, you know."  It was an unspoken code with Tidus, that when he used plural pronouns he was speaking on behalf of the school's community.  Riku didn't actually know most of them, but figured that was for the best.  For them, anyway.  "Of what you have.  You're lucky."  
  
Riku considered this for a long moment, then smiled a little, softly.  "Yeah."  
  
Then something squealed in amongst the costume racks and the smile vanished.  Selphie rushed out, waving a slip of paper at him and stopped just short of bowling them both over into the door.  "You actually look _happy_!"  She declared, shoving the paper into his hands.  "Here, office pass so you don't get marked late."  
  
"Thanks."  Riku shoved it into his pocket, then looked down at the girl before him, rocking on her heels and grinning up at him--but watching her, that thing was still there.  That apology, lurking somewhere behind the smile.  "Selphie."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Riku chuckled softly and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her into a brief but crushing hug.  Just long enough to make a point; just long enough to whisper "Thank you" in her ear before releasing her--wide-eyed and a little pink--back to Tidus and the dressing room, and turning to leave.  
  
"Hey!"  Tidus called through the door.  "Come by more often, huh?  You have secrets to teach, Riku.  Secrets!"  
  
  
  
  
  
By lunchtime, the sky was heavy with somber gray clouds.  Sora frowned at them from Riku's lunch spot and they seemed to frown back, consoling him in dreary tones.  'It's okay,' they said.  'You didn't really want sunshine anyway.  It's not like its nearly winter or anything, or that you're accustomed to much warmer weather regardless of season.  At least now you have an excuse to snuggle with Riku.'  
  
"Oh, shut up," Sora told them, and the sudden interjection caused Riku to jerk upright and turn his attention away from the hemp on his knee--nearly completed now, blue glass bead glinting happily from the center of the weave--which in turn upset Sora's rather comfortable position on Riku's shoulder.  Because, despite the clouds and their depressed attempt at a tease, he had already started shivering and sought out warmth.  Riku being the nearest source, of course.  
  
"...Who exactly are you talking to?" Riku asked once he figured it was safe to do so.  Sora was scowling rather heatedly, and although Riku found the expression to be nothing if not cute, he still felt it was cute in the way that kittens were cute right before they bit your fingers off.  
  
"The clouds," Sora explained patiently, waving skyward and taking advantage of Riku's distraction to pull his knees up and snuggle moderately closer.  "They're being gloomy."  
  
Riku was still and silent for a long moment, hands poised with strands of hemp wrapped around his fingers and when Sora tilted his head back to look up, Riku was just staring at him--mouth lightly open, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You," Riku murmured, eyes narrowing, "are far too cute for your own good."  
  
Sora screwed up his face at that, nose wrinkling in distaste.  "I am not _cute_."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"No," Sora said emphatically, folding his arms over his chest.  "I'm not."  
  
Riku sat back and rolled his eyes, hands finally returning to motion and attention returning to the necklace pinned to his knee.  "Sorry, am I offending your masculinity again?"  
  
"I'm not _cute_."  
  
"You are."  
  
"I will hit you again."  
  
  
  
  
  
The rain started sometime during sixth period and continued in a steady shower that promised to go on indefinitely.  Coach called off practice after fifteen minutes of his team splashing ineffectually around the hockey court and the players trudged inside to shiver and shower and strip off drenched practice uniforms.  
  
All of this to be rendered pointless, as Sora had to strap his rollerblades back on and skate the two blocks home, at which point he was drenched and needed yet another hot shower.  Despite this, however, he dropped his soggy backpack by his desk and set out to finish his homework before dinner in hopes of maybe, finally having a free evening.  He could sneak down to the lounge and see if there was anything good on TV--because he hadn't so much as been in the same room as a television in months and couldn't remember what was usually on Monday nights.  
  
Something about that was kind of frightening.  Sora decided not to think on it overly long.  
  
He'd barely dried off the edges of his English text and opened it to the essay questions the teacher wanted answered when the door to his dorm room opened with a slow, ominous creak, then closed softly.  This was followed by the click and clatter of a skateboard being stowed in place in its corner, then slow steps that squeaked and squished in a rather wet manner on the linoleum floor--and then Roxas was looming over his desk, bedraggled with rain and lack of hair product and being unable to prepare for facing the world at large before racing off to school that morning.  His eyes were bright in his face, and he was scowling in a way that was almost as dark and dangerous as Sora had been that morning.  That morning seemed to be a spawning point for various problems of this sort.  
  
He said, " _You_."  
  
Sora smiled as brightly as he possibly could while offering a nervous chuckle.  "Eheh, hey Rox."  
  
"Do you know--do you have any idea what I've had to put up with all day?"  Clearly that was a rhetorical question, because Roxas didn't pause long enough for Sora to formulate an answer, instead plowing ahead into what was sure to be a lengthy rant.  "Every girl in that fucking school now thinks I'm some kind of closet romantic and that all I need is her sweet, reassuring love to turn me into a total sap and subsequently her personal boytoy.  My life is over."  
  
Sora nearly laughed out loud but suppressed the urge at the dark look on Roxas's face, instead just humming and waving dismissively.  "You're so dramatic.  I think you've read one too many of those books."  
  
"Sora."  Roxas reached out abruptly with one hand, grabbing his collar and hauling him stumbling to his feet.  "You sold me out."  
  
He scowled abruptly, meeting Roxas stare for stare.  " _You_ sold _me_ out."  
  
"Those girls weren't going to do anything to you.  They like you; they hate my guts."  
  
"You know, Rox, you have precisely no balls when it comes to girls."  
  
"They were going to make me join the choir."  Roxas settled both hands on either of Sora's shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric for emphasis.  "The _choir_."  
  
"That doesn't change the fact that you sold me out first!"  
  
"You defended Riku over me!"  
  
"You were out all night GETTING LAID!"  
  
They both paused for a moment then, Roxas backing off minimally.  Sora felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.  
  
"Huh," Roxas huffed, jerking his head to one side in what was at once a proud and embarrassed gesture.  "Yeah.  Well, I wouldn't have left if you weren't going on about snuggling with your boyfriend."  
  
"You're the one who kept pestering me to tell you everything!"  
  
"Yeah, well, you're too damn much fun to tease, Sora!"  
  
"How the hell is that my fault?"  
  
"Who else could possibly be responsible for you being such a fucking pansy?"  
  
At this point, something happened, and neither were entirely sure what, but it involved Roxas suddenly finding himself crashing backwards into the wardrobe.  They both took a bare instant to look surprised at this development.  
  
Then in something like synchronization, two pairs of blue eyes narrowed, two sets of white teeth bared, and two boys charged each other in the singular attempt to achieve a headlock before the other did.  
  
Sora hit the floor first, hard on one hip but not to be outdone.  He found enough leverage from his desk to kick backwards.  Which, consequentially sent all his homework flying to the floor with a fantastic clatter.  
  
"Jock!"  
  
"Grunge-baby!"  
  
The second round saw Roxas scrambling against the tile, which was still a bit damp from shoes tromping in rainwater and didn't help matters when traction was necessary.  Sora almost pinned him, but they were close enough to the bunkbeds that he grabbed the cornerpost just in time to jerk himself away.  
  
"Fruit!"  
  
"Closet-case!"  
  
" _What?_ " Roxas hissed.  
  
Sora pulled one knee up off the floor, propped on his toes and waiting for the next move.  "You heard me."  
  
"You little bastard."  
  
Roxas almost won, the next time, but Sora pulled a somersault and all but threw him over his shoulder.  It was more of a roll, actually, but landing on the tile on his ass still hurt.  
  
"I'll tell everyone you moan Riku's name in your sleep like the pansy-ass bottom-boy you really are."  
  
Sora smirked.  "I'll tell everyone you sing New Kids on the Block in the shower."  
  
Roxas paused in climbing back to his feet, one hand propped on the wardrobe and mouth falling open in an O of patent disbelief.  "You wouldn't dare."  
  
"Wouldn't I?"  
  
"This from the guy who knows all the words to the Ninja Turtles theme song!"  
  
"Well, at least I don't hide behind the ficus in the lounge to watch 90210!"  
  
"That is QUALITY PROGRAMMING,  you little bitch!"  
  
Roxas knocked Sora down with a shoulder to the chest.  Sora retaliated with a knee to the gut that didn't really injure but sufficed to give him the upper hand once again.  Roxas almost succeeded in a headlock but Sora wriggled away at the last moment, twisting himself free and they both retreated to opposite sides of the room--Roxas with one arm across the seat of his desk chair, Sora huddled back against the lower bunk, both sucking in breath and flailing for ideas as to the other's possible weakness.  
  
Sora's attention diverted to one side for a moment, hand up to wipe a trail of sweat away from his chin before his gaze fixed back on Roxas.  Then his head jerked sideways again in a perfect double-take, blinking in the direction of the door.  Because they had an audience there, damp from rain and swim practice and seated on the floor, knees up and arms draped casually across them, watching the interior of the room with a muted amusement.  
  
Roxas followed the look, scowled, and muttered, "What the fuck."  
  
"Hey, Riku," Sora murmured belatedly, raising one had in greeting.  
  
Riku returned the gesture, corners of his mouth curling into the subtle beginnings of a smirk.  "Hey yourself."  
  
"How long have you been there?"  
  
"Long enough to make you both my personal slaves for life with that amount of blackmail material."  That smirk spread across his face, tilting his lips and lighting his eyes, and Sora could practically hear the thought behind that-- _oh, so you moan my name in your sleep, do you?_   "You both know far too much about each other for only having been acquainted for a week."  
  
Roxas made an abbreviated huffing noise at that, pushing himself to his feet.  Sora thought he heard a muttered "Whatever," but Roxas stalked past him before any more was said, straightening his flannel for all the good that did for his appearance.  At the door, he and Riku took the opportune moment to glare at each other, until Roxas muttered, "Move, I'm going for a walk."  
  
The door slammed rather pathetically behind him.  
  
A split second later, the door opened again and a hand reached through the crack to grab the skateboard from its nook, then slammed a second time in a slightly less pathetic but rather sheepish way.  
  
Riku--still on the floor, although well away from the door and its repeated slamming at this point--shot a look sideways at Sora.  "And that was about...?"  
  
Sora climbed to his feet and pulled his t-shirt straight, offering a glare at the negative-space Roxas had left behind as a general measure.  "Nothing."  
  
"Right."  Riku said the word like he almost believed it, long and drawn out in a thoughtful way.  "Lovers' spat?"  
  
"Riku."  Sora said it with a sound like strangling, rolling his eyes.  Riku shrugged, reached up with one hand to wave him closer--caught his wrist, and _tugged_ until Sora was halfway collapsed on top of him.  
  
"Hey," Sora murmured at this abrupt turn of events.  
  
"Hey," Riku echoed, slid his fingers over Sora's cheeks and kissed him softly.  
  
Riku's eyes stayed half-open, aqua glimmers under silver eyelashes, at least until he tilted his head and pressed closer and at that point Sora stopped watching.  Curled his hands in the cloth and safety pins on Riku's shoulders and pressed back, liked how it tingled when their lips caught together and darted his tongue out just briefly when it broke, caught a taste before Riku pressed their foreheads together.  Pool water and rain.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that all day."  
  
Sora made a humming sound in response because he kind of had, too; could tell that Riku did by the way his eyes would darken sometimes, watching him.  He uncurled one hand from Riku's shirt, let it slip up a little, over the curve of Riku's neck, palm resting there on the skin and fingers threading through his hair.  It was new, this kind of intimacy.  Exciting, sometimes; frightening, other times.  But Riku turned his face towards the hand touching him, closed his eyes again like he'd never felt anything quite this good and Sora felt rather like some of his internal organs had seized.  
  
That probably wasn't healthy.  Right?  
  
His hand was shaking, just a little, because somehow all of this was a little too much and more like one of those frightening times, but Riku reached up and caught his fingers, kissed his palm once and dropped both their hands down to rest against the linoleum floor.  Cold surface under skin.  Their foreheads were still pressed together, hair growing damp in between.  "I can't stay," Riku murmured, eyes open to look at him.  Smiling, just a little.  
  
"Okay," Sora murmured, and that fear eased away.  
  
Riku kissed him one last time before he left, backpack in one hand and leaned back against the door; laughed and pulled Sora against him with his free arm and kissed him like he just couldn't resist.  Like he had the night before, on his way out.  And for a moment there with that arm across his back and that smile against his mouth and Riku warm and solid (and rather damp) and pressed against him, it was more exciting than frightening.  
  
Sora thought it might take a while to even out.  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxas came home sometime after dinner and after the rain stopped, and Sora figured he had probably cooled off by then.  He dropped his skateboard and shoes in place and went directly to the shower, and by the time he emerged from the bathroom Sora was already in bed with the lights out.  Roxas followed suit without comment, climbing up the rung ladder on the narrower end between the bedposts instead of jumping up from Sora's mattress, which he usually did whether Sora was in it or not (or sleeping or not).  
  
Sora waited a little while, because sometimes Roxas would speak first.  Sometimes.  He waited and counted the trail of two sets of headlights that crawled across the bedroom walls from the window, and he had half of a thought in mind about what to ask.  After they got the whole 'hey, we're cool, right?' out of the way, because it was a dumb fight and they both had to know it.  
  
He had that half a thought, something nervous and only partially formed, about asking Roxas about sex.  With a boy, specifically.  Because clearly, he knew these things, and Sora thought maybe it was worth investigating.  
  
But when he lifted his foot up and nudged the mattress with his big toe, there was no response.   And when he tried again, a little harder and accompanied by a, "Hey," just for emphasis, there was no response.  There was no kitten-purr snore emanating from the top bunk, either, so after a moment of waiting to see if he changed his mind, Sora rolled over and tugged the blankets up to his shoulders, and let his thoughts roll around unanswered until he fell asleep.


	11. Come Out and Play

**11:  Come Out and Play  
**  
Riku could probably have said something, but he had two jump rings and a lobster clasp in his mouth, and so he settled for just looking suitably concerned and apologetic.  In another set of circumstances, he might have cheered and done a little dance at the muttered announcement that 'Roxas isn't speaking to me,' but in this particular instance he didn't have the heart to celebrate the possible eviction of Roxas from their lives and relationship and general area.  
  
Sora was drooping, visibly.  Even his _hair_ was drooping.  
  
He didn't really want to address that possibility--that Roxas's little invasion might not have been so unwelcome on Sora's part.  That maybe Sora actually _enjoyed_ his company.  That maybe they had become... _friends_.  
  
Damn.  Sora could have been friends with anyone, he had his pick of the school.  He could have even been friends with Tidus.  Riku could probably handle that, as long as they didn't start singing show tunes together.  Maybe he should introduce them.  
  
"Dan and Jimbo weren't out yesterday," Sora noted glumly, indicating the two bugs crawling across his t-shirt--it was the No Fear shirt, Riku noted, the one he'd been wearing that day in August when Riku had first seen him.  He looked cold.  
  
 _It was raining yesterday,_ Riku thought, but there were still bits of metal in his mouth and he hadn't quite got the hemp threaded through the cord tips.  _And you look cold, you should come over here and snuggle with me._  
  
Sora continued to sit and droop, however, despite Riku's mental projections.  "They were at the pool hall," he said thoughtfully after a moment.  "Someone must've been causing trouble.  Maybe like... a praying mantis.  Walked in like he owned the place and took over their table."  
  
 _You're so fucking cute_ , Riku thought at him, smiling around the findings and digging through his backpack for the needle-nose pliers.  They'd slipped down under his books.  
  
"So, there was gonna be this big brawl--you know, classic bar fight, broken tables and everything.  But the owner--he's a caterpillar, you know--he told them before, if they got in one more fight he'd kick them out and contact the authorities, right?"  Sora leaned sideways, elbow propped on his knee and chin in his hand, letting the ladybugs crawl onto his palm and watching them flutter their wings irritably, like they were corroborating his story.  "See, Jimbo--he used to get into a lot of trouble.  Even went to jail once.  And it's not like he meant for any of that to happen, but--it just did, and there were people he had to protect.  You know?  But that sort of thing just follows you around no matter what, so he had to keep a low profile."  
  
 _Keep talking,_ Riku's inner voice murmured, half-caught between paying attention to crimping the ends of his hemp in place and staring at the curve of Sora's neck, how it moved when he spoke and when he breathed.  _I like your story; I like the sound of your voice._  
  
But Sora fell silent, mouth in a soft line and contemplating the ladybugs as they crawled circles around the circumference of his hand.  Back to palm and back again.  
  
He still hadn't spoken by the time Riku had both his jump rings attached, and he was finally able to talk properly while wrangling with the pliers and the lobster clasp.  "So, what happened?"  
  
Sora's mouth fell open for a moment before he responded.  "I'm not sure."  
  
"Well, Dan's his buddy, right?  He'd make sure Jimbo didn't get into any trouble."  Riku gave up on the pliers and finished off the jump ring with his teeth, tugging lightly on the clasp to make sure it wouldn't come loose.  
  
"I don't think Dan knows about it," Sora murmured, straightening abruptly and leaning back to release the bugs onto the tree behind him.  He looked, if it were possible, even more droopy than he had previously.  He collected his backpack with a kind of morose resignation.  "Bell's gonna ring."  
  
"Not for another five minutes."  Riku reached out and wrapped his fingers around Sora's wrist--not grabbing or tugging, just warm there.  "Come here."  
  
Sora looked up at him--paused for a moment, attention darting from his eyes to his lips and back for a moment, a spark of anticipation in the look but then it broke and he shook his head.  "Not here."  
  
"I'm not going to do anything, just come here."  
  
When Sora had slid across the grass to his side and was sufficiently nearby, Riku smirked a little and leaned over to clasp the necklace around his neck.  He had to lean in a lot--because the rings were being fidgety, and he had to see the back of Sora's neck to clasp it.  
  
He heard the little inhale of Sora's breath right in his ear--so close they could easily have been making out if not for the fact that Riku's chin was rested idly on his shoulder during the process.  
  
"PDA no way!"  
  
"Get a room!"  
  
"Riku," Sora murmured, and he pulled back--reluctantly, because that was all the closer they were ever going to get on school grounds.  
  
Sora's expression was wide open, mouth parted softly (eminently kissable), watching him with a pleased confusion that looked fantastic on him.   One hand was up, fingers turning the blue bead that rested perfectly in the dip between his collarbones.  "I didn't know it was for me."  
  
"It's always been for you."  
  
He smiled, bright and perfect and still a bit droopy, but it was an improvement.  Riku thought he could have improved it even more, if he could pull Sora against his side, pet fingers through his hair and down his cheek and kiss him softly.  If Sora could stop thinking about fictitious insect pool halls and blond-and-flannel skaters.  The world was unfair like that.  
  
"You want to go out after school?"  
  
"I have a game."  
  
"Ah, right."  Riku had enough time to catch Sora's hands, squeeze his fingers, before the bell rang.  "I'll come watch."  
  
Sora paused, just in the process of pulling his backpack on, and his eyebrows pulled down and his mouth was open to say something, and for a moment everything froze.  
  
And for a moment, Riku's stomach dropped into his feet.  (And the glummest of the vaguely conscience-like voices sighed and shook its nonexistent mental head.  _Well, here we go, he's going to tell you not to come._ )  
  
It was understandable, really.  The captain had already made it clear that he didn't want Riku there.  Maybe the coach didn't, either.  Maybe he was a distraction.  Maybe his presence was only causing issues between Sora and his team.  It was okay, really.  It was probably better.  
  
He had just steeled himself to say this, but at the same moment the flow of time decided to restart and Sora's expression changed back into that smile.  "Okay."  
  
  
  
  
  
Something wasn't right.  
  
Sora knew this with a developed instinct, the sort that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle and his muscles thrum with the tension in the air.  Something was off, and it has started sometime on Monday and by Tuesday night had reached a steady buzz that hovered on the edge of everything.  
  
The fight with Roxas didn't help.  It wasn't part of the problem, but now when Sora got up in the mornings to dunk his head in the sink the other sink was unoccupied and the dorm room had been vacated before his alarm even went off.  Now after lights-out with the creak of crickets outside when Sora's thoughts were piecing themselves together before sleep he was left with them on his own.  He supposed he could always apologize or something even though he hadn't done anything wrong, dammit--but Roxas had a strange knack of making sure their paths never crossed long enough for such a thing to occur.  
  
Unfortunately, this one shift in his daily routine--one he shouldn't even have been that used to after only a week--threw the rest of Sora off.  Completely.  
  
The hockey team lost for the first time that season on Tuesday night.  The captain gave him a dirty look.  
  
  
  
  
  
On Wednesday morning, the buzz became a low, ominous pulse.  
  
The girl-entity was nowhere to be seen that morning, or perhaps they just never found him in the crowd, but their absence felt more conspicuous than it probably should have been.  The press of bodies in the halls seemed thicker than usual and the whispers that sprang up behind him when he passed seemed louder and more directed than before.  When he stopped at his locker his shoulders tensed with his back to the student populous behind him, like he could feel a hard stare just between his shoulder blades.  
  
The bell rang before he could make for Riku's locker, so he had to be satisfied with passing his lab desk in the chemistry classroom and muttering, "Something's up," out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
Riku just nodded, like he could feel it, too.  
  
Sora spent most of first period idly taking notes and running one finger over the surface of the hemp and beads circling his neck.  Riku attached himself to Sora's side afterwards and they spent most of the five-minute break in between arguing over who was going to walk who to class.  Sora totally won because the sign language classroom was on the way to trig.  Riku didn't even let him enjoy the victory, just ran a thumb over his wrist and suggested he be careful until English.  
  
Just after second period, though, was when the dam broke.  
  
There was a small courtyard between the math hall and the main building, and although it wasn't necessary to cut through it to return to the senior hallway, it _was_ faster.  And so, it was just as Sora was zipping his backpack and shouldering out a door into this small, grassy space that he felt the stares he'd been getting the edges of all day land on him full force.  
  
He froze, exactly where he was, backpack half on his shoulder and the heel of his palm still holding the door open.  
  
There were seven of them--he was pretty sure, at least; there were definitely more than five and less than ten but he didn't think he had time to take a head count.  At least two of them were clearly football players.  Three of them were the kids who tried to drag him in for a swirly last week (and one of those still had a black eye).  One of them, he noted with a mental grimace that didn't have time to make it to his face, was an alternate from the hockey team.  
  
He didn't have time to think about any of this, you see, because Sora was actually a pretty smart guy, and he knew that it was not physically or scientifically possible for him to fight seven opponents at once--two of which counted extra, being linebackers or something.  
  
So, after freezing just long enough to take in their presence and comprehend the situation, he turned on his heel and ran.  
  
The halls were still packed with students shuffling at a slow crawl through the bottlenecked junctions of hallways, but Sora had the benefit of size on his side.  He tugged his backpack securely on both shoulders and kept an ear open for the pounding of feet behind him and dove in, wiggling and elbowing his way between the tight pack of bodies, jostling girls who screeched their anger at him and overturning someone's science project and breaking up at least one carefully hidden makeout session somewhere deep in the crowd.  
  
When he broke free into the main hall, he could hear them just a bit farther back in the crowd, shoving people aside to get through.  Sora took a break, settled on a destination, and broke into a sprint.  
  
There was another shuffling knot at the head of the senior hall and he had the disadvantage of moving against the flow of traffic, but he'd broken through it before the slam of pursuing footsteps began echoing behind him.  He still had a few seconds head start.  He raced down the hall, dodging a few stragglers and ignoring the teacher who called from his doorway--something about running in the halls, psh--and skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a complete collision with the bathroom door.  
  
He didn't bother taking in the space around him or waste time hoping he'd arrived at the right bathroom, vaguely aware of the presence of a few other unwanted bodies as the door swung closed behind him.  
  
"Roxas!"  
  
The door to the far stall swung open abruptly with a bang, Roxas appearing with one elbow against the frame, paperback held idly in his other hand, against his leg.  Cigarette in his mouth and his blue eyes narrowed.  "You got a problem?"  
  
"My _problem_ is gonna be here in about ten seconds."  
  
Fortunately, Roxas didn't waste any of this precious time wondering what the hell Sora was talking about--his eyes widened, just a fraction, and then he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and turned to address the room at large.  "OUT!"  
  
There was a guy at the sinks and another at the urinals and they both looked like sophomores--what the hell were they doing in a bathroom in the senior hall?  Nevertheless, they jumped at the sound of Roxas's voice and quickly scurried out.  The latter might not even have had his buttons fastened.  
  
There was something to be said for power in reputation.  
  
Roxas was shrugging out of his flannel.  "How many?"  
  
"Seven, I think."  Sora pulled his backpack off, passing it to Roxas who tossed it into the stall.  
  
"Shit."  Roxas didn't like the odds either, shooting a sideways look at Sora and then gesturing with the two fingers holding his cigarette.  "Necklace."  
  
Sora reached back to unfasten it, nerves tingling now--the adrenaline rush, that was starting up already--and Roxas snatched it from him, wrapping it and his book up with the flannel, tossing them with the backpack and taking one last drag off his smoke before flicking it in the toilet and pulling the stall door closed.  
  
The last second took the longest.  Sora felt it in the way his feet shifted, shoulder-width and fists curling at his sides, licking his lips and tasting the salt tang of sweat already there.  Aware that next to him Roxas was doing the same thing, one foot slightly back, rolling up on the balls of his feet and shrugging his shoulders loose, slow curl of smoke exhaled between pursed lips.  
  
Then the door opened.  
  
He was right about there being seven of them--he counted as they walked in, and even with Roxas backing him up that was still three and a half each.  Five if you counted the linebackers as two.  Roxas was making the same computations at his side, straightening into a defiant stance even as Sora crouched further in preparation.  
  
Roxas's mouth was curling into a smirk, one hand raised to wiggle his fingers in a little upturned 'come on' gesture, just as the door swung to behind their seven opponents.  
  
 _Bring it._  
  
And at this point, the slow motion camera ground to a halt and the world descended into chaos.  
  
In a fight, the pulse of thought dropped to everything reactionary and sensory.  Taste of blood in your mouth.  Drip of sweat off your chin.  Stale-urine smell and bad breath in the air.  Impact noise, grunts and cussing and the squeak of sneakers on linoleum.  Someone behind you?  Elbow back.  Someone in front--punch.  Someone has your arms--kick, and fucking _kick_ because if they get your legs, too, all you have to do is wriggle and squirm and hope you can knock them off-balance enough to get something free.  
  
There were three of them--he was pretty sure he'd knocked one of them into a stall, pretty hard because the guy was doubled-over and wheezing and he wondered why there were four of them on Roxas instead of him--maybe they thought the blond was more of a threat.  He had a reputation, after all, and Sora was just the transfer student.  
  
They cornered him against the sinks, and none of them seemed to realize just how bad of an idea that was.  The smaller one--that was his teammate, Sora noted with a bitter taste in the back of his throat, above and beyond the salt of sweat and copper tang of blood--learned, with a fist to the gut and an elbow in the face when the linebacker caught him by the hair.  The third--the one he'd slammed into the stall, was recovering.  Back of his hand across a nose and stalking back into the fray.  
  
He couldn't see Roxas, past them.  Wondered for half a second if he was doing okay--must be, or Sora would be staring down seven guys instead of three.  
  
The linebacker jerked his head back, hair pulling, and he slammed his fist up under his chin without thinking about it.  Felt the bone bruising his knuckles.  
  
Then there was a curse, and the hand in his hair vanished, and there was a loud _thud_ of a body hitting the floor.  
  
And then, there was a pause while everyone reassessed the situation.  
  
Riku stood over the fallen football player (clutching his abdomen and grimacing in pain, starting to push himself back up), shaking one hand idly out of a fist, like he'd stunned his own nerves with the force of the punch.  Hair tied back in a quick, messy tail, silver waterfall on the back of his neck.  Tight scowl on his face.  
  
Across the room, Roxas took the opportunity to kick the shins of the guy holding him in a headlock.  
  
That signaled round two, he supposed, if one were to be keeping score.  
  
Sora was pretty sure something smashed into his nose at some point, but he didn't take any notice of it.  A lot of things were smashing into him, but he ignored them to focus on his two opponents.  Two, now--and it seemed they had shifted to set three on Riku, which went to show just who they thought the biggest threat in the room was.  
  
He didn't have time to wonder about that.  There was an arm against his neck pressing him into the wall--disgusting wall, tiled and sticky with something that might have been cleaner scum or something else--and he couldn't get the right angle for a hit--  
  
 _Pow_.  Right in the solar plexus.  Sora felt his body instinctively curling in on itself and that.  Fucking.  _Hurt_.  
  
The guy--it was his teammate, noted again distantly--had his arm pulled back for another in the same place, and that was going to hurt worse, might make him puke (like that hasn't happened before, but you're used to being on concrete and not inside, never went this heavy on school grounds--too risky).  He thought a knee to the groin might do the trick, push the guy off him, thought he had the right angle to do it too, but--  
  
"BREAK IT UP!"  
  
There was the final bell.  
  
According to school legend, it took five janitors, seven teachers and two vice-principals to break up the fight in the bathroom.  In reality, Sora was pretty sure it was only five teachers, two janitors and one very surly-looking vice-principal.  That one, in particular, had a hold of Roxas by the scruff of the neck and was keeping him carefully outside the bathroom door.  He had blood on his shirt--whose it was was hard to tell--and a purpling bruise down one side of his face, and a split lip.  
  
Riku left more quietly, with the trigonometry teacher's hand on his shoulder.  He'd lost a few safety pins, one of which left a gaping rip in the collar of his t-shirt, and some of his bangs had fallen out of the ponytail, and it looked like he'd taken a clean hit to the jaw.  
  
Sora wasn't lead out at all--when the yell came, he just stopped.  Waited for the guy holding him to the wall to let go, and just walked out.  Stopped next to Roxas and waited, because he knew what was coming next.  Principal's office.  Parent phone calls.  Suspension.  
  
That was it.  
  
Roxas grinned back at the interior of the bathroom, watching their seven opponents in various states of getting to their feet or being held back by teachers.  They all had a similar look to them--bruised and bloody, worse for wear.  
  
"Oh, we _totally_ won," Roxas declared, cackling a little and still riding on that adrenaline high.  He straightened in the vice-principal's grasp and held a hand out to either side, palm up, one to Sora and one to Riku.  "Skin!"  
  
There was a brief pause, because Sora wasn't sure what Riku was going to do--and Roxas didn't seem to care, just stood with all the confidence in the world that their hands were going to connect with his.  
  
And they did, nearly at the same time--brief slap, then turned up so Roxas could return the gesture emphatically.  " _Hell_ yes."  
  
Riku smirked, just a little, and Sora grinned at him--and maybe this would turn out all right, after all.  
  
  
  
  
  
Principal Vandervargen (and yes that was his real name and how a guy with a name like that lacked the basic survival instincts to do something other than work in the public school system the world may never know) had a countenance that Riku had always associated with a giraffe--his neck and nose both being impossibly long and pronounced.  In previous years in which Riku spent a great deal of time in the presence of the principal, he had amused himself by imagining him lifting his head over a tree branch and nibbling on leaves.  The man had found him highly irreverent due to all the snickering that induced.  
  
And he did snicker, just a little, at the memory itself, but the principal was rubbing his balding forehead and frowning at the stack of files piled on the desk in front of him, and seemed to not notice over the sound of his own, overextended sigh.  
  
Riku resettled the icepack over his chin and waited.  
  
"Roxas," the principal began, lifting the first folder in spindly fingers and letting it crash back onto the desk in the corner nearest the delinquent in question.  It was massive, no less than three inches thick with tags and sticky notes poking out in every direction and a few dog-eared slips of paper spilling through the cracks and onto the floor as it dropped into place with a _thud_.  Impressive.  
  
Roxas grinned--he had his own icepack, up against the side of his face and it failed to hinder the magnitude of self-satisfaction in that expression one bit.  The principal opened his mouth as though to say something, then shook his head and let it drop back into his hands.  Probably reminding himself that this was his senior year, after all.  Just one more year, and there would be no further Roxas to deal with.  
  
"Riku," the principal tried next, lifting another folder.  Not as massively grand as Roxas's, but still rather impressive when it thumped down on the desk in front of him.  About an inch of pink and white reports filling it just enough to bulge comfortably.  Those beady little giraffe eyes lifted to study him.  "It has been a while, hasn't it?  I was hoping I wouldn't be seeing you again."  
  
Riku shrugged in response, just slightly, and caught the corner of Sora's look from the right.  Curious.  "I thought so, too, but something came up."  
  
"I see."  On the contrary, the principal didn't appear to 'see' at all, just gave him a reproachful stare before looking down, two fingers pushing the last, painfully thin and brand-new manila-yellow folder across the surface of the desk.  Just a bit, as though to indicate it.  "And... Sora."  
  
And in his seat, Sora was scowling.  
  
He had been holding a wad of Kleenex against his nose up until that point, but the bleeding appeared to have stopped and it was now bunched in one clenched fist.  He was scowling, and it was nothing approaching any expression Riku had ever seen on that face before.  Something dark and resentful.  Even Roxas, on his other side, took a pause from his satisfaction to shift a little in his seat.  
  
"I suppose it was just a matter of time," Principal Vandervargen intoned with a giraffe-like sniff, flipping the folder open to expose the two crisp sheets of xerox paper, and one creased leaf from a notebook, ragged edge where it was ripped out, scrawl of handwriting covering the front in number-two pencil.  
  
Sora's fists curled tighter in his lap--and Riku wanted to reach over and just touch him, a hand on the shoulder or something.  Something calming, maybe, but he had the distinct feeling, an instinct, that it probably wasn't a good idea.  
  
"I have, here, a memorandum of understanding," the principal continued, "signed by you, Sora, stating that you understand that County High School's street hockey team has a strict, zero-tolerance policy for involvement in hockey gangs."  
  
"There's no _gang_."  Sora's voice was like a bark, just loud and intense enough that Roxas and Riku's heads both whipped to the side to stare at him at the same time.  Same level of saucer-round eyes at this.  "This had nothing to do with that."  
  
... _Gang?_  
  
"Is that so."  The principal rested his elbows on the desk, long neck leaning forward to settle his chin on his folded and entwined fingers.  "Then please, help me to understand.  Because from my side of the desk, Sora, it appears to me that I and the administration here have made a grievous error in allowing you to attend this school."  
  
Wait... _what_?  
  
"I've done everything I said I would."  There was a tremor in Sora's voice, just around the edges.  His fists were tense on his knees (and fuck, Riku thought, dammit--just let me hold him, just for a minute--)  "It was--there were _seven of them_.  They were gonna jump me, what the hell was I supposed to do?"  
  
"Language, young man," predictably was the first thing out of the principal's mouth, but anything that might have come afterwards was interrupted with an abruptness that made the man jerk back from his chin-on-hands poise.  
  
"It wasn't his fault."  Roxas was ramrod straight in his chair, nothing like a grin or mischief about him, just a flat and narrow expression.  Still with an icepack against his face.  
  
"If Sora had enough time to seek _you_ out, then presumably he could have taken that time to contact a teacher or administrator, who could have diffused the situation before it even began."  Principals in general had a knack for finding solutions to your problem after the fact, ignoring, of course, that no self-respecting male on the planet would go running to an adult when faced with a fight.  Vandervargen made this assertion with a nod of his head, settling back in his chair and folding his hands over Sora's file.  "I will not hear excuses for why the fight occurred.  You all know the school rules perfectly well."  
  
Roxas made a noise of exasperation on one side of Riku and Sora was still clenched and scowling on the other.  The principal looked from one of them to the other then finally settled on Riku himself, beady eyes thoughtful.  "You don't have anything to say about this?"  
  
He tongued the roof of his mouth, shooting a look over to Sora but there was no attention there.  Riku didn't like this side of him, not one bit.  "Sora's right, this had nothing to do with hockey or a... _gang_ , or whatever."  His fingers caught inside a hole in the hem of his shirt--lost another safety pin there--and tugged on it idly.  Watched the principal's mild interest and how Sora's shoulders lost just a little bit of tension.  "It had to do with me."  
  
Vandervargen blinked once, twice.  Then his mouth fell open, giraffe-like stupidity in the expression for a moment before he caught himself, schooled his face into neutrality and straightened his tie.  "I see.  That... rumor."  
  
And just like that, Sora's entire demeanor changed.  Body relaxing and curling back towards itself, back against the chair, head tilted down and something embarrassed in the red around his ears.  Fingers uncurled and twitching absently against the wad of Kleenex in his hand.  Still a bit of blood under his nose.  Riku had the urge to reach out, catch his hand and twine their fingers together--hand-holding was within the acceptable limits of PDA, and there was nothing in the student handbook specifying gender.  Riku had checked.  
  
(You should _totally_ do it,) the voice in his head that was nothing approaching a conscience informed him.  
  
And so, of course, he did.  Reached out, slipped his fingers under Sora's palm and tugged his hand down between them.  Curled their fingers around each other.  Little squeeze, just for comfort, and rubbed his thumb against Sora's.  Assurance that this wasn't just for show.  
  
(Hahaha, look at him squirm!)  
  
And yes, the principal was doing something approaching squirming.  Shifting in his seat and adjusting his tie some more and resettling the open folder in front of him--and it had to be killing him that he couldn't make them stop.  They weren't breaking any rules.  So there, old giraffe man.   
  
Roxas snickered, and for a moment Riku thought about high-fiving him again.  
  
Vandervargen cleared his throat a bit too loudly.  "I suppose that would result in some hostility from certain other students."  And that was probably all the concession they were going to get, but the man was flipping Sora's folder closed and Riku figured it was enough.  "I've been in contact with your coaches regarding this matter.  Riku, you've been suspended from the next meet and benched for the one after that.  You're still expected at practice and it's my understanding that the team has its own brand of punishment for situations like these."  
  
Oh yes.  Doggie-paddle laps, those were always fun.  He'd been stuck with that way too many times already.  "Yes, sir."  
  
"Sora, your coach is placing you on full suspension for two weeks."  
  
He was going to argue--was tensed to do it, Riku could feel it in the way his palm stiffened.  He gave Sora's hand another squeeze in warning, because he knew why, knew there were only three weeks left in the season but there was no sense in arguing now, just when they'd convinced the principal to not take any drastic measures.  "Okay."  
  
Vandervargen's gaze landed on Roxas automatically, being the only other person in the room.  Roxas grinned.  The man made another noise of interminable exhaustion.  "And finally, though it should go without saying at this point, you are all suspended for the remainder of the school week.  Your parents have been called and those adults who are unfortunate enough to be responsible for you three are on their way to pick you up."  He collected the folders back together, tapping them even and laying them flat on the desk again.  Shot one last unsettled look at Sora and Riku's entwined hands and one last defeated headshake at Roxas.  "Now, get out of my office.  I would suggest that you never come back, either, but I suppose that would just be wishful thinking on my part."  
  
The giraffe-man didn't watch them leave.  If he had, he probably would have noticed (with a sufficient twitch of vaguely repressed discomfort) that Riku never let go of Sora's hand.  



	12. Santa Monica

**12:  Santa Monica**  
  
The hall outside of the principal's office was white and bare with pocked linoleum floors that stretched into shadows under heavy wood doors with those little rectangular windows on either end.  On one side of the hall was the office door and the broad sheet of plexiglass alongside it screen-printed with the word 'PRINCIPAL' in large text that failed to be intimidating, behind which the secretary sat and occasionally glared through with her spectacles low on her nose.  On the opposite wall were a series of perfectly-spaced portraits of former principals dating back to County High's establishment in 1963.  The linoleum was probably still authentic.  
  
Below the secretary's glaring-window, there was a bench, backless and made entirely of stiff wood and metal bolted to the floor, which was probably also authentic and had withstood generations of unhappy students squirming on its surface while waiting for their equally unhappy parents to arrive, at which time they would be sufficiently grounded, probably until their late thirties.  
  
On this bench sat three boys, in varying states of distress.  
  
Roxas appeared to be distressed largely by the absence of his skateboard.  He sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, idly curling his fingers together and occasionally shifting his feet like he intended to roll some wheels along the ground to make some noise in the bare and silent hallway, only to discover that there was no skateboard under his feet, and no he could _not_ go back to the bathroom to collect it, stop asking.  
  
Riku was notable by his lack of visible distress.  His legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, safety pins winking under the fluorescent lights and mostly still intact around the cuffs of his pants.  His shirt and the thermal beneath it were not so lucky, and his one free hand was still tugging absently at one of the holes around the hem of his tee.  It was forest green, unusual color for him but it made his eyes stand out brighter in his face.  Some kind of alien logo in the middle.  
  
In truth, though, despite the casual way he leaned back against the wall and stared slightly upwards into the general space above Martin Hofferbur 1966-1972, he was mentally calculating the likeliness of his father arriving to pick him up as opposed to his mother.  Then estimating the average velocity of pissed off as indicated by his mom as she approached infinity, divided by pi, rounded up, and that probably equaled the number of days he would spend grounded from god and everything.  And she'd probably make him clean the garage.  The garage where there were spiders.  Ugh.  
  
Riku's free hand, of course, was still curled comfortably in Sora's, who was sitting between the two and possibly suffering the most distress, because he didn't need a complicated equation to know exactly how much trouble he was in.  The lecture had already started in his brain, where his mother had arrived in a blaze of fury and turned off the movie marathon with a snap of the TV dial, scaring away the existential concepts on the couch and knocking over all the carefully piled mental notes.  And now Sora was sitting on that couch and gradually shrinking under the weight of mental-mom's disappointment, worse than any level of anger or any length of restriction or any wooden spoon the universe could cook up.  
  
On the bench, the real Sora wilted along with his mental counterpart.  
  
"Well," Riku said after his equations were finished and he'd double-checked his work, assuring that the answers were correct, "I'm dead."  
  
Roxas leaned back from his knees and his contemplation of the lack of skateboards.  "What's your sentence?"  
  
"Eaten alive by spiders.  You?"  
  
"Pointed apathy."  
  
"Ouch."  Riku squeezed the fingers that were still tangled with his.  Pet the back of Sora's hand a little with his thumb.  
  
The boy in question had wilted far enough now that his head was all but lying on his knees.  "She's gonna cry."  Because she was, Sora could picture it perfectly.  The words and the way her eyes would shimmer and her voice would catch until he just wanted to throw himself off the roof or something for being such an inconsiderate son.  She was a master of guilt.  
  
Roxas offered a low hiss in response.  "I'll take the death by spiders over that."  
  
"You can have it," Riku muttered, and even with his face buried in denim Sora could hear the edges of the scowl in his voice.  
  
"Could you guys not fight today."  He didn't ask it--made that a statement and leaned back up, against the wall and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, little dots in the white tiles.  Water stain just to the right of the bench, yellowed around the edges.  Let his fingers go slack in Riku's grip as though to suggest that yes, the hand-holding _would_ cease if he was incapable of civility.  
  
On his right, Roxas shrugged a little, unconcerned.  "Sure."  
  
On his left, Riku stiffened slightly and continued staring at the spot of wall just over Principal Hofferbur's bald head intently, just for a span of seconds, then abruptly he leaned forward and refocused his attention across the bench.  Face carefully neutral.  "I think we should call a truce."  
  
Roxas blinked once.  And then twice, and then turned to stare at Sora with the kind of expression one reserves for the sober person helping his inebriated friend walk home.  A subliminal, _is he serious?_  
  
Sora shrugged and noted how Riku's hand had gone stiff and clamped around his.  Oh, he might have some influence over that, after all.  Roxas mirrored the shrug after a moment, reached over Sora and held one hand in the air.  "Deal."  
  
There was a brief moment of hesitation, and Riku had to let go of Sora's hand in order to shake properly, but shake they did.  The world had just become a brighter place.  Although he did still have his mom to deal with, but that was one less stress factor down.  
  
"So, with that out of the way," Roxas said, remaining half-leaning over one knee towards Sora and notably at the same time as hand-holding was resumed, although Roxas probably took no notice of that, "what's this about a _gang_?"  
  
Well, that was bound to have come up at some point, thanks to Vanderwhatever's little speech.  Sora never could remember the second half of his name and he rolled his eyes upwards both at this and the question.  "It was a suburban hockey gang, Rox, don't make it sound like an inner-city turf war."  
  
"So, then, what was all that about you being _allowed_ to attend this school?"  Riku's voice was close to his ear, fingers curling against his.  
  
"I told you, I got into some trouble."  Figures, now that they decided to be buddies they'd both gang up on him.  On his right Roxas's eyes narrowed to blue slits, and on his left Riku watched him from behind a fringe of silver bangs.  
  
"You also said something about not being able to graduate," Roxas countered.  
  
"You fought like a pro," Riku added, observant boy that he was.  
  
Roxas leaned in again and something halfway suspicious and otherwise in awe crept into his tone.  "I swear to god, Sora, if you're more delinquent than I am I will retire and spend what remains of my school career worshiping you."  
  
Sora spent a few minutes scowling at the patient stares, both waiting for him to spill the whole story.  After a sufficient length of scowling, Sora came to a decision and opened his mouth.  Saw how they both perked up waiting for him to speak and was somehow hilariously reminded of the girl-entity.  
  
"It's nothing," he said, mockery in the tone and felt his mouth curving into a smirk.  "It's stupid."  
  
It was funny, he thought, how they both had the same reaction.  Frown at first, then dawning realization.  Then a deeper frown as they turned to face each other, mouths open for a moment like they were going to start arguing again.  Remembering at the last second that they called a truce and backed off at the same time, resettling into silence on either side.  
  
Let 'em stew in that for a while.  
  
The heavy door on the left side of the hall chose that moment to creak open, a wash of light spilling in its wake, and in that light a dismal silhouette appeared, throwing a length of shadow across the linoleum.  Sora was reminded vaguely of a horror flick and wondered briefly why the figure wasn't brandishing a chainsaw.  Riku scrambled to his feet rather ungracefully, hand still clamped tightly around Sora's.  
  
"YOU ARE IN A WORLD OF TROUBLE, YOUNG MAN."  
  
When Sora stood up to see around the tensed barrier that Riku made, he noted first that there was a girl holding the door open.  He thought he vaguely recognized her as one of the office aides, rust-brown hair in pigtails and freckles across her nose.  The other figure, though--the looming one that was tromping across the floor towards them, footsteps leaving behind a trail of sound that spelled DOOM out in the air like rising dust clouds, was--  
  
"Mom," Riku uttered in something like an apologetic squeak before she caught him by the ear, which was a feat in and of itself as the woman was at least a head shorter than Sora, even.  
  
(He noted, somewhere in the background, that Roxas had crawled onto his knees on the bench and was making motions behind them to the girl holding the door open.  How odd.  Wasn't Roxas terrified of the female gender in general?)  
  
"I thought we were done with this," Riku's mother declared in a strange echo of what the principal had said on the same subject.  Riku appeared rather pained and sufficiently cowed, and his hand was _still_ tightly grasping Sora's.  He mumbled something that sounded apologetic and the woman made a grumbling noise and let him go, stepping back to fold her arms over the skein of beads hanging from her neck.  
  
She was short, and a bit round, and had a generous amount of frizzy silver hair that fell past her waist and had a look to her like she had been stunningly beautiful in her youth and had grown into a motherly grace.  There was a hemp bracelet around one wrist that Sora rather suspected Riku had made and she was dressed, interestingly, in a poet blouse and a broom skirt.  Sora momentarily superimposed her image with tie-dye and a beaded headband and round purple glasses and imagined her flashing him a peace sign.  
  
He rather thought he might like her, if she wasn't so scary-mad.  
  
(The girl at the door was rolling her eyes and shaking her head and behind him Roxas's gestures became more frantic.)  
  
"I can explain," Riku attempted, but his mother shook her head with a firm finality.  
  
"You will have plenty of time to explain while you cleanse your soul of misdeeds by cleaning the garage."  Her voice had a melodic quality, Sora thought--remembered how it had carried over the top of all the noise on the phone.  "I'll give you a can of Raid in case you find a black widow nest."  
  
Riku shuddered.  
  
(The girl finally sighed and let the door fall closed, sneaking quietly behind Riku's mother to see what the hell Roxas was going on about.  They stood for a moment facing away, heads leaned close together and whispering.  She was wearing a babydoll shirt, he noted distantly, brown with some kind of logo on it, and cords.)  
  
Riku's mom opened her mouth to say something further, eyebrows drawn down and together in righteous anger but her gaze slid to the side at that moment and landed directly on Riku and Sora's entwined hands.  She paused, mouth still open.  Sora swallowed.  Riku's fingers tightened.  
  
And then Riku's mother looked directly at him and her entire countenance changed, eyes bright and mouth turning up into a dazzling smile, hands clasping together at her waist.  "Oh!  You must be Sora."  
  
"Um."  Sora wasn't entirely sure what he was meant to do at the acknowledgment.  Behind him the girl was nodding and hurrying away to the other door, and Roxas returned to the bench after she disappeared through it.  "Yeah."  
  
And then, without warning or preamble, he was abruptly enveloped in a crushing mom-hug--the sort that wasn't quite a bear hug but squished everywhere and had a feel rather like smothering.  The beads were bumpy against his chest and her hair tickled his nose, and she smelled a little bit like laundry soap and a little bit like a bakery.  He flailed, just slightly, and beside him Riku let out a long, exhausted sigh.  
  
"Mom--"  
  
"It's so wonderful to finally meet you!"  She backed away finally, holding him by the shoulders just at half an arm's length, studying him with a critically pleased smile.  "I'm Risa by the way--oh, _look_ at you."  She smoothed his hair down and straightened his shirt in that habitual way moms did when they thought their sons weren't quite as presentable as they ought to be, patting his shoulders in approval.  Then elbowed her own son with a conspiratorial aside.  "Riku, he's _adorable_."  
  
" _Mom_ \--"  
  
"Don't you 'Mom' me, young man, you're still in a world of trouble."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
She backed away finally, and Sora still wasn't entirely sure what to do aside from standing rather limply and staring.  Her lips were still pursed in a pleased smile.  "I'm very sorry, sweetheart, but I'm going to have to take him away.  But--" her mouth fell into a round O as something occurred to her, hands clapping together.  "You should come for dinner on Sunday!  I've told Riku to invite you but I'm afraid my son isn't always as polite as he should be."  
  
Riku adopted a look of wide-eyed fear, leaning over Sora's shoulder abruptly.  "You really don't have to."  
  
" _Riku,_ " his mother admonished, slack and appalled disbelief on her face.  She almost began scolding him again then stopped and shook her head, stepping back and motioning for movement.  "We'll discuss this at home.  It was lovely meeting you, Sora.  I'll send Riku to pick you up on Sunday."  
  
Sora decided it was safer to agree with Riku's mother, and nodded a bit.  "Yeah, okay."  
  
The girl reappeared through the door at that point, staggering a bit under the combined burden of backpacks and a skateboard and a little flannel bundle in her arms.  She called out Riku's name before he could be lead away and tossed the safety-pin encrusted bag to him.  He caught it deftly in one hand.  "Thanks, Olette."  
  
Somewhere behind Sora, the girl was handing Roxas his belongings one at a time, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and waiting while he shrugged into his flannel and straightened it to his liking and found a suitable pocket to hide his novel in.  Sora noted this again, distantly, because Riku's hand was still clasping his and he was being drawn along towards the door, stumbling a few steps until they were out of sight of the secretary's glaring-window.  
  
Riku smiled just a little, softly, and planted a light, brief kiss on his mouth.  "Later."  
  
And suddenly all the implications of that day came rushing forward, the running and the fight and Riku in the middle of it, shaking out his fist, and he didn't have to be there.  Didn't have to get involved and he had to know what the punishment would be.  He didn't have to, really, but he'd come anyway.  
  
Sora's heart gave a little jump but by the time he'd processed this Riku's mother had dragged him away, and Roxas was dangling his hemp necklace in front of his face.  Sora took it carefully, winding it in his hand for a moment before he clasped it back securely around his neck.  
  
  
  
  
  
The phone rang at about six o'clock that evening, and Sora was at his desk waiting for it.  
  
He'd expected the call earlier, actually.  Sometime shortly after the dorm mother and her gaggle of RA's had escorted them back to the building and explained to him and Roxas that they would spend their suspension under what essentially amounted to house arrest.  They would not be allowed to leave the residence unless signed out by a parent, and were not allowed to use the activities lounge.  Roxas immediately scowled at being denied his Wednesday night television.  Sora thought it served him right.  
  
Or maybe sometime after they had lunch in the small dining area and retreated up to their room, Roxas scratching the back of his head until the door was closed behind him and then muttering, "Hey... we're cool, right?"  Sora had nodded and his expression lost some of the strain, and he'd stalked across the room to rifle through his books again.  Put on Stone Temple Pilots at Sora's request.  
  
Or maybe around the time Roxas was bitching about having nothing left to read.  Either before or after dinner.  Either would have been fine.  
  
The next two days were going to suck.  
  
But the phone rang at six, and Sora picked it up right in the middle of the second trill.  "Hello."  
  
"I'm coming to pick you up," his mother's voice said.  
  
Sora paused, eying the receiver sideways like he didn't quite believe what he was hearing.  "What?"  
  
"I was in Portland.  I don't have a lot of time, Sora.  I'll be there in five minutes so be ready in the foyer."  
  
And this was how he ended up at the kitchen table in the small apartment on the south end of Bright, nestled in among all the little business condos and young professionals, rent and maid both paid for dutifully for the one or two days a month she was home.  He sat with his chin on his folded arms and visually traced the grain of wood on the tabletop, his mother at the corners of his vision in a smart beige pantsuit, brown hair pulled up and pinned just _so_ , heels clacking on the tiled kitchen floor as she busied herself waiting for the kettle to boil.  
  
The first words she spoke to him since their phone conversation ended half an hour earlier were, "Do you want some tea?"  
  
Sora considered a knot in the wood, just to his right.  "No, thanks."  
  
The clacking continued.  Sound of water pouring, the clink of a spoon against ceramic.  Squeak of a chair pulling out and he straightened just enough to speak without being muffled by his arms, watching the mug first as it landed on the table before looking up into his mother's brown doe-eyes, creased and tired.  She had a similar look to Riku's mom; she'd been beautiful in her youth but time was catching up to her in a different way.  
  
"I don't even know what to say," she murmured after a moment and the tone made his stomach twist against itself.  "I thought we had an agreement, Sora.  At least half of this was your idea; I thought you wanted things to change."  
  
"They did."  He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and wound his fingers together (because he didn't have Riku's fingers to tangle with) and straightened more, tried to find the right words under the weight of that disappointed stare.  Because things _had_ changed, and he had to make her see that.  "This wasn't--there's no gang, mom.  There's no hockey or parties or yardsaling or anything.  I'm done with that."  
  
His mother took a long drink of her tea, gaze dropping to consider the mug as it lowered to the table.  "The principal told me about these friends of yours."  She pursed her lips, tongue wetting them thoughtfully before she looked back up.  "I didn't particularly like what I heard.  I hoped you'd fall in with a better element."  
  
Sora shook his head, rubbing the bangs out of his eyes and he couldn't look at her anymore.  Stared down at the table and his palm across it, how it left a sweaty trail across the wood.  "That doesn't have anything to do with it either, Mom--"  
  
"I'm going to tell you, Sora," she started, and he was going to get that speech again.  The same one he'd gotten that morning in June with his mom in her pajamas, coffee in hand and eyes red from being up all night, crying all night, worrying about him all night.  "What I think.  And then you can tell me what you're going to do about it."  
  
He deflated, slowly, blowing out a long breath that didn't seem to ease any tension at all.  
  
"I think I should call the residence office and have your roommate switched."  She tapped one mauve-painted nail against the side of the cup.  "What was his name--Roxas?  Mr. Vanderventer said he had the longest record of any student he'd ever had."  
  
"I think it's Vander _wharf_ ," Sora murmured off-hand.  "And I doubt it's longer than mine."  
  
"That's not funny."  She didn't specify which part of the statement wasn't funny, but Sora shut his mouth with a click of his teeth anyhow.  "I think you should stop hanging around with this Riku boy, too.  I don't know how you always manage to make friends with disciplinary problems, Sora, but we agreed back in June that your education was more important, didn't we?"  
  
Sora's hand settled on his neck.  Felt the bumps of hemp under his fingers, the smooth glass bead in the center.  "It is, but--"  
  
"This is what I think, Sora."  Her mouth was pursed again.  Mocha lipstick in a thin line and her eyes were sad.  
  
He swallowed, hard, curled one finger around the bead at his throat and looked directly at her.  "No."  
  
She balked, just for an instant, expression falling away to something blank and uncontrolled.  "Excuse me?"  
  
"That's not fair, Mom, you don't know the whole story."  
  
"I know that you were fighting in school again.  What am I supposed to think?"  Her hands were clutched around the mug now, eyebrows drawing down in warning.  "I know you were half a step away from expulsion before we moved here.  Tell me what I'm supposed to think, Sora."  
  
"Will--"  His voice caught for a moment, hand returning to his forehead and then rubbing the corners of his eyes.  They were a little too wet, he thought.  "Will you listen to me?"  He was looking up at her, and had the thought for a moment that she'd always said he had his dad's eyes.  And even when Dad wasn't there anymore she didn't seem to mind.  "Please?"  
  
Her face hardened for a moment before she sat back in her chair, hands folded around the mug, and found some patience.  "Okay.  Go ahead."  
  
Sora deflated again--and then tensed, because he was going to have to tell her.  
  
...oh boy.  
  
He grimaced for a moment, at the table, at his hand still palm-flat against it, ran through a half a dozen ways to explain that hey, guess what mom?  I have a _boy_ friend.  Riku was one lucky bastard.  
  
"So," he started, and the sound almost caught and stuttered in his mouth.  "Riku... um.  We kind of..."  Had to pause and swallow again.     "Hooked up, I guess."  His heel swung back, hit the leg of the chair and the knots in his stomach twisted.  "That's--that's why the fight happened."  
  
When he looked up his mother's eyes had gone impossibly round, mouth slack and bemused (and he'd inherited that expression, he was sure).  "You're... dating a boy."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She didn't seem to have anything to say to that, same look on her face and still processing this.  He plowed ahead blindly.  "See, these guys tried to jump me.  There were seven, I guess they thought I'd wuss out, so--you know, the principal said I should have run to find a teacher or something to get help, and I guess he's right.  But it was like instinct took over.  They were big and there were _seven_ of them, right?"  He halted for a moment, hands still tangling together and heel kicking the chair leg repeatedly, now.  "I went and found Roxas cause I knew he'd back me up.  And then Riku just showed up.  He must've seen me running.  It just... it wasn't my fault, right?  None of us started it, it was self-defense.  And--I guess that doesn't make it okay but it's not the same as back home.  I don't think those guys are gonna bother us again and if they do, then... I'll just be a narc, okay?  I promise."  Caught his tongue between his teeth for a moment, hands folded in front of him tightly and ground out, "Please don't--don't make me stop seeing him."  
  
The plea hung in the air for a small eternity, over the table, Sora with his eyes squeezed tight, face tilted down--his mother watching her son through a stunned haze.  Silence stretched out so thin it felt like a pin-drop would snap it in two.  Sora thought he might be sick.  
  
What she said, softly after all that time and silence to contemplate, was, "I love you."  
  
Sora's shoulders slumped just a bit, some of the tension draining away even when she continued.  That meant she wasn't mad, right?  
  
"I have to be honest, Sora--I want better than this for you."  She didn't specify what she meant by 'this', might have meant the situation or his choice of company or the reason those guys had wanted to pound his face in.  "I'm your mother, of course I want better.  But I'm not going to make you miserable, either."  
  
He chanced a look up, saw how her features had smoothed out.  Something like unhappy understanding.  "You're not mad?"  
  
"I need to think."  She remembered her tea abruptly, lifting the cup for a long sip, clicking her fingernails against the ceramic when she set it down.  "I have a meeting in the morning.  We'll have to talk about this again later."  
  
"Oh."  
  
There was another long pause, although this time the silence wasn't as fragile and Sora shifted on his elbows, trying to think of something positive to present.  Although, it light of the day, nothing really came to mind.  She made a sound around her tea after a few minutes, resettling the cup and meeting his eyes, and it felt better talking to her that way.  "Mr. Vander--" she started, paused with a frown and shook her head slightly like tossing the name away.  "The principal," she ventured instead, "said you were running a B average."  
  
The beginnings of a smile curled at the edges of Sora's mouth, something like pride swelling in his midsection at the compliment.  Although that might've been where he got punched.  "Yeah."  
  
"That's good."  She looked pleased, although her face was still mostly flat and still a bit shocked.  Her voice lilted upwards a bit, though.  
  
"Mom."  Sora wet his lips and leaned forward on his elbows, addressing her more directly now and pretty sure of what he needed to say.  "This was a really bad first impression, you know?"  
  
She sighed softly, rise and fall of shoulders in a sort of agreement, a concession that maybe this was just that unfortunate.  "I know.  Everything seemed so much better before.  The last couple of months.  I don't mean to blame your friends but that's how it looks from my side."  
  
"But I was really lonely," Sora murmured.  "Before."  
  
Her mouth was open for a moment and everything just hung there, like it had before, and then her eyes turned down with an unexpected kind of sadness, her hands crossing the table to enfold his.  "Oh, sweetheart.  I'm sorry."  
  
His shoes squeaked on the tile when he got up and he almost tripped once along the way around the table, and he wasn't sure exactly where or how he landed but her arms were around him, and she made something like an 'oof' sound once he was settled there.  She hummed against his head, smoothing his hair back gently.  "You're really too big to hold anymore, Sora."  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut because he knew that didn't mean she was going to make him get up.  In fact, the words were wistful, like she would have preferred he was still a little boy she could rock to sleep in her arms.  And she did sway just a bit, side to side in time with her hand stroking his hair.  "I'll be home for Thanksgiving."  
  
"Really?"  Sora heard his voice perking up despite himself, and he guessed he probably wanted to still be that little boy sometimes, too.  "Can we make dinner?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
His mom smelled like White Shoulders and cucumber hand soap.  
  
  
  
  
  
The dormitory was dark when Sora came in; room checks had already come and gone and Roxas was a lump of shadow on the top bunk.  He navigated the room as it was via the angle of streetlights through the window, eyes adjusting to the gray and shadow while he sidestepped the skates by the door and other random boy-related detritus on the floor, changing into his pajamas and climbing into bed.  
  
He rubbed his eyes closed, yawned, and was perfectly willing to drift off into sleep, but the bed shivered a bit.  He wasn't really surprised.  
  
"Hey.  I'm coming down."  
  
Of course he was.  Sora sat up and scooted back, legs folded under the sheets and yawned again, wondered how well he'd be able to talk now, when he'd just used up his quota of awkward and tense drama for the week talking to his mom.  
  
Roxas dropped onto the lower mattress with the same lack of grace he had a few nights ago, hair in a similar state as it was then, too--washed and dried and slightly slept on, messy around his eyes.  Flannel sleep pants and bare chest and Sora had the odd, random thought that Roxas was rather more built than he'd thought.  
  
His mouth was drawn in a tight scowl, and he moved to lean back against the wall with his legs stretched across the bed.  Ankles crossed and feet dangling in the air, without ever looking at Sora.  "So.  You want to know what happened, right?"  
  
Sora caught his tongue between his lips, wet them slowly and the concepts that had just returned to his mental couch with some trepidation and a good long search of the area for any further presence of mental-mothers took note of this, leaned forward eagerly to listen.  "You don't have to."  
  
"No.  It's just--"  Roxas pushed his hair back, folded his arms and looked out the window, fingers tapping idly against his elbow.  "I had this stupid fucking crush on him, okay?  It was sophomore year, we were all self-possessed idiots.  I saw what went down with him and Selphie, and--I dunno."  He shook his head slowly, paused for a moment like he might stop.  Didn't.  "He had it pretty bad, all the rumors and the passive-aggressive teasing and the bullies trying to jump him.  I didn't want that.  So I didn't really do anything about it."  
  
Sora leaned forward, chin in his hand, and tried to figure out what wasn't being said.  "And?"  
  
"And nothing.  He just--he blows up at me one day.  No reason for it."  Roxas shifted his shoulders against the wall, ran his tongue across the line of his teeth and looked over, just for a second.  Long enough for Sora to see the unspoken, _and it fucking_ hurt.  
  
"So, that was it," Sora finished for him, because it felt like the story was just going to hang there until he did.  
  
"Yeah."  Roxas moved suddenly, slid to the edge of the bed and pushed himself up.  Grabbed the flannel off the back of his desk chair.  "That's my side of the story, you'll have to drag the rest out of Riku."  Roxas pushed the window open and paused, shrugging the flannel on and looking back over his shoulder.  Streetlight framing half of him.  "Hey.  If he ever tells you why, could you let me know?"  
  
Sora considered this.  Nodded slowly.  "Sure."  
  
He crawled out of bed about halfway when Roxas was settled in his tree, flare of a lighter in the dark and a curl of smoke almost all that could be seen of him.  "Aren't you cold out there?"  
  
"Go to sleep."  
  
Sora thought, sometime while he was drifting off, that he might have heard Roxas's cell phone being dialed.  Thought he might have heard murmured words into it.  
  
Thought maybe, since they had all this unwanted time on their hands, that he might tell Roxas his side of the story, too.


	13. Ants Marching

**13:  Ants Marching**  
  
 _May, 1995; Long Beach, CA_  
  
"You can't take this up the middle," Cloud said, voice low and close to his ear, spoken downwards and his arm was leaning against Sora's shoulder while he fidgeted with the bit of blond hair that had fallen down between the nosepiece of the sunglasses holding it back.  "These guys don't bunch up, they're gonna try to surround you."  
  
"We could try a fake."  Kairi's voice was cool and even, slightly below him where she was knelt and securing the laces of her skates, stick settled in a crooked line on the pavement at her side.  Red hair in a mess of bands and barrettes at the back of her head and she leaned on her knee to look up at them, corners of her mouth turning up conspiratorially.  "Send Sora down the middle and I'll take it up the side.  Get Wakka ahead to knock 'em all down."  
  
Wakka himself had no comment to offer on his intended use as a battering ram, being a few feet away and to the side, adjusting one of the pads on the back of their goalie, reams of foam rubber further dwarfing the already minuscule kid beneath them.  No one was really sure just _who_ the goalie was; he always arrived already suited up and was only identifiable by the dancing brown eyes underneath his helmet and the high, squeaky voice he spoke in.  
  
No one really cared, though, because the kid was probably the best damn goalie in California.  He'd decided to play for the Sunfield gang for whatever unknown reason and there was no way in hell they were going to send him packing just because they had no freaking clue who he was.  
  
The sun was hot, but that was nothing new.  Sora shrugged his t-shirt off, used it to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck.  "You really think we should be pulling something fancy in the first quarter?"  
  
Cloud shifted away from him, leaned back with hands in his back pockets, regarding the line of palm trees against the horizon.  Laugh a soft hum.  "Depends on how soon you want to call a yard sale."  
  
Sora grinned at the idea, wadded up the shirt and tossed it over to the grassy curb where the girl in the little pink sundress was sitting, stopwatch in hand, gaze darting from one side to the other.  She was Tulane Ave's intermediary, a sweet look about her like she really had no business being wrapped up in all of this.  Trustworthy, though, and both sides wanted her calling this match for that reason.  
  
"Let's beat 'em, first," Sora said; watched the scrawny little goalie and Wakka carry the net out and center it in the road on their side, measuring the court by car lengths and making a gesture of agreement with the opposing team's goalie.  "We'll go with Kairi's stunt move, see how they react."  
  
"Whatever you say, boss."  Cloud tapped the heel of his stick on the pavement, a kind of irreverent salute, and skated backwards to circle the net, taking position alongside Wakka on defense.  Related the plan to him briefly in a hushed voice.  
  
Kairi winked and picked up her stick, straightening.  "It'll work."  She chuckled, "the first time we do it, anyway."  
  
Center court was marked by a small white line of spray paint in the center of Sunfield Ave, white stucco cottage on one side of the street and a colonial-style monstrosity in beige with a six-foot privacy fence on the other.  The owner could occasionally be seen glaring at the makeshift court over the edge of this fence, muttering about damn kids making noise and calling the cops or maybe just parking his rig in the middle of the road until they made off.  Sora always made sure to grin and wave at him.  
  
The stucco house was Kairi's--which was why they played here.  
  
Sora paused in position with the toes of his skates just behind this line, lowered his stick to rest across it and folded his hands over the butt, chin rested atop and waiting for the small knot of their opponents to break.  Watched their center skate over, stick across his shoulders and held in the curve of his arms, tying back brown hair and scowling at the pavement and the humidity and the world in general.  
  
He grinned.  "Ready to get your ass kicked, Leon?"  
  
"Don't count on it, runt."  No change to that expression, eyes narrowed and settled on Sora, stick lowering alongside his.  
  
The intermediary hurried over, bright orange ball in one hand and the stopwatch bouncing against her stomach, pausing just at their shoulders.  "Centers shake," she intoned sweetly, waiting with the ball clasped between her hands until they reluctantly did so.  "Village rules.  Offsides game, no fouls, no penalties, anything goes.  The ball is dead off the curb or past the mailboxes on either side.  Intermediary calls the score with no argument.  Agreed?"  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Flash of a pleased smile--and Sora thought again that she didn't really belong here, but hell.  She loved the job.  "Wonderful.  NHL faceoff, period start..."  She paused, stepping back, ball raised high in the air.  " _Now!_ "  
  
And he wasn't sure what happened to her after that, at least not until the quarter ended.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was a general fact of life that most guys just did not like hitting girls.  Which didn't necessarily mean they wouldn't, ever--even Sora would freely admit that were a girl to be pummeling him (which had happened on occasion, sometimes because he deserved it) he would fight back.  However, he wouldn't feel good about it and would only actually hit as much as was absolutely necessary.  
  
Checking during a game was a similar matter, particularly with the gangs--you were expected to check the girls just like you would anyone else but heaven fucking help you if you did it too hard.  The rest of the team would beat your brains out for hurting their girl.  
  
And he accepted this, because if anyone ever, _ever_ hurt Kairi he'd give just the same.  
  
The point of all this was, though, that when Kairi followed him home after a game, he was always at least three times as beat up as she was.  
  
"Owowowow!"  Sora flailed a little, arms carefully out to the side and hissed until she pulled back, pink-tinted cottonball in one hand and a bottle of peroxide in the other.  Her mouth was pursed, tilted down in a small, pink frown and her hair was mussed and tangled and falling out of the knot at the back of her head.  
  
"You done?"  She asked with a mild kind of ridicule, not so much laughing at him as disbelieving this sort of display.  Eyebrows raising up under sweat-limp bangs.  He grit his teeth and nodded, eyes squeezing shut when she began dabbing at the raw cut on his cheekbone again.  "Honestly, I can understand the whole 'anything goes' concept, it's not like the intermediaries want to go out and get into the middle of anything, but the least they could do is make high-sticking illegal."  
  
"It _hurts_ Kai."  
  
"Of course it hurts, it's getting infected from Leon's nasty hockey stick.  Hold still."  She paused again, long enough to reach for a clean cottonball before continuing, small frown forming on the bridge of her nose.  "I guess it's not like any of this is regulated, anyway."  
  
"General agreement," Wakka spoke up from one end of the table, reaching up to catch the roll of gauze Cloud tossed to him from the other end.  He had a small pad pressed against his elbow, skinned bloody in a particularly nasty fall.  "Leon looked worse than you, anyway, and there wasn't even a fight."  
  
"Just means he'll be back for more," Cloud muttered, rifling through a box of band-aids, two already wrapped around his knuckles.  Nodded briefly in Sora's direction.  "You're bleeding on the floor."  
  
Sora was perched on the breakfast bar, hands curled around the edge in varying degrees of tight depending on what first-aid-related torture Kairi was inflicting on him--how the hell she got away from that intense of a game with a few bruises and one skinned knee was beyond him, not to mention wholly unfair.  He looked down, noted again the rather nasty-looking gash along his calf where he'd landed on a rock.  A pebble, really, and it had no business doing that kind of damage.  The blood had been soaking into his sock but apparently saturated; it was now dripping down the side of his rollerblade, to the wheels and into sad little blots on his mother's kitchen floor.  "Shit.  Paper towels?"  
  
Cloud lifted a roll off the table and deftly tossed it to him.  Sora pulled off a wad and tried to sop up some of the blood on his leg; Kairi laid a few down to catch the drips, but he'd have to clean the floor later.  Possibly the whole thing if his mom caught them.  
  
"OW!  Fuck, Kairi!"  
  
She scowled up at him momentarily, paper towels in her hand soaking up the generous amount of peroxide she'd just dumped over his leg.  It hissed and bubbled around the edges of the cut, running down his skin in pink drizzles.  "I think you might have to get this stitched, Sora."  
  
Sora regarded this idea dubiously, waiting for the last of the liquid and blood to be soaked up and wiped away so he could see the injury properly.  "Eh, it's fine.  Put a band-aid on it."  
  
"Red might have a point, there," Wakka chimed in, leaning back on two legs of his chair to peer around Kairi at the wound.  "That looks pretty nasty."  It was, in fact, already bleeding again and Kairi wadded up a fresh bunch of paper towels to press over it in an attempt to staunch the flow.  
  
"I said it's fine," Sora repeated and brushed her away, holding the towels in place himself.  Getting stitches meant asking his mom to take him to a doctor, which meant two car rides and a waiting room's worth of pointed silences.  He'd take the scar.  
  
There was some activity around him, movement; Wakka wandered over to clap his hand and excuse himself for the evening, hugging Kairi; she went into the kitchen to rummage for more gauze.  To the side Cloud was standing, wrapping one last band-aid around one finger.  Sora remained bent over, still putting pressure on the cut but he didn't need to see when Wakka paused at the door with a half a bow, holding it open with a deferential, "Ma'am."  
  
She paused in the entry, brown paper bag of groceries in her arms and her hair was down, but she was still in slacks and pumps and a gauzy cream blouse, and she frowned in a way that wasn't angry or accusatory, just sad and a little frustrated.  She paused there, until Sora looked up just enough to meet her eyes and mumbled, "Hi, Mom."  
  
She looked tired; Sora wondered when that had started.  He didn't remember his mom ever looking that tired.  She didn't say anything, just hefted the groceries and strode past him, past the pile of first aid supplies on the dining room table and past the breakfast bar where her son was bleeding and into the kitchen, where Kairi could waylay her with pleasantries.  
  
Sora stared down at the toe of his left skate, murmured, "But there wasn't a fight."  
  
The paper towel roll disappeared from his side and Cloud replaced it, sliding up onto the counter and mirroring Sora's position.  After a few moments of listening to the murmur of Kairi's voice and his mother's low responses, he said, "You should get the stitches.  It's bad."  
  
"Is it?"  Sora frowned and pulled the wad of paper towels aside, looking over the cut again.  It seemed bigger somehow, now.  Maybe Cloud had a point.  
  
"I'm gonna bounce."  Kairi rounded the breakfast bar to face them, collecting her purse and skates from one of the chairs.  "Have to be home for dinner."  Her smile dropped a few watts once she wasn't facing Sora's mom anymore, and he caught the edge of her glare in the general direction of his leg.  
  
Sora rolled his eyes.  "I'll go see a doctor, Kai."  
  
Her smile was brilliant, but he didn't miss the brief look and wink she exchanged with Cloud.  They were working against him in tandem, dammit--but that cut really was pretty bad.  He supposed.  She shouldered the purse--one of those tiny backpack things all the girls had anymore, sky-blue with a star-shaped keychain dangling from the zipper.  Smiled again and tapped her cheek, face turned to one side.  "Sugar."  
  
Sora dutifully leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek, earning a ruffle of hair in return.  "See you guys at school tomorrow."  
  
Cloud slid off the counter to follow her.  "I'm out too."  Paused just in front of Sora, frowned just a little, then turned his face to the side and tapped his cheek.  
  
Sora pushed him away by the face, laughing.  "Get outta here."  
  
"I know when I'm not wanted."  Cloud collected his skates, met Kairi at the door and waved backwards, both of them disappearing through it.  
  
The door swung shut, and after a few long minutes of heavy silence, Sora licked his lips and hunched his shoulders.  "Mom... I think I might need stitches."  
  
Her sigh was palpable; it rose into the air, floated around the room like a curl of black smoke.  "Okay."  
  
  
  
  
  
 _June 1995_  
  
He wasn't entirely sure when the fighting started.  No, that wasn't right--he knew when the _fighting_ started, just not the fighting at school.  That had come later.  It was just a trickle at first, the first two years of high school.  A few thrown punches here and there, a tussle or two in the cafeteria.  Usually, though, there was some kind of discretion when a rival gang wanted to call him out.  A general agreement, like there seemed to be for so many of the 'rules', that this sort of shit had no business going down on school grounds.  
  
Junior year, though, all caution seemed to go to the wind.  He could pinpoint the source, to a certain extent; someone over the summer had come up with the brilliant plan of holding a sort of unofficial tournament, for the unofficial hockey 'clubs' in Los Angeles county.  Naturally, anyone at all with something to prove had shown up.  And somehow, to Sora's utter bewilderment and slight dismay, Sunfield had smoked every single one of them.  
  
He never really thought they were _that_ good.  Been playing together since they were old enough to tie on skates, they worked well together and had somehow acquired a severely kickass goalie.  They'd run a permanent winning streak against the other Long Beach gangs since sometime mid-Freshman year, but it had never occurred to him that they were really _that_ good.  
  
It had never occurred to anyone else, apparently, either, because almost instantaneously everyone and their grandmother wanted to go to the Village and play Sunfield.  Everyone who had been at the tournament and everyone who hadn't.  
  
And if they couldn't play, well--fighting was the next best thing.  
  
This is how, on the last day of school, Sora found himself in the principal's office with a split lip and bruised jaw.  It had been incidental, this time.  No note in his locker or the murmured insistence of a time and place somewhere in the crowded halls; he'd just walked into the bathroom and Seifer was there (he was traditional Eastside, and sometimes you had to watch out for them), and shit had gone down.  Neither of them had backup, and Sora thought it had been a pretty even match.  
  
The principal didn't share his sentiments.  
  
He was a younger guy, eyes behind the neat haircut and carefully trimmed beard still brimming with whatever youthful idealism he was still carrying around from college.  He'd made the assertion from the first time that year that things started to go wrong, that one way or another he was going to get through to Sora.  And sitting in his office that day, wood paneling dull behind him and a grim frown on his face, it seemed that he had finally found a way to do it.  
  
"I have three things to show you, Sora," he said in tones that belied a certain amount of tension.  The name uttered low and tight, an air of desperation.  
  
Sora lowered the icepack from his face to better see whatever these three things happened to be, and said nothing.  Usually when he sat in here on the hard wooden chair, front and center and staring balefully at the wiggly hula dancer on the corner of the desk, he just scowled as hard as he could.  Today, he felt tired.  He felt worn out and older than he was, and the most expression his weary face could offer was an exhausted sort of unhappiness.  
  
"First," the principal intoned, studying Sora for his reactions, "I have your student record."  The folder thumped down on the desk, overflowing with reports and sticky notes and unexplained slips of paper.  Three years' worth of suspensions and incident reports and unexcused absences, piled up inches thick like the layers of sediment that built mountains.  
  
He shrugged a little, because it was nothing new.  
  
"Second, I have your final report card."  
  
Sora didn't really want to see that.  Didn't have to look at it to know what it said but the man was waving it in the air over his desk, insisting that he take the sheet of paper.  So he did; scanned the text and the column of F's expressionlessly.  Summer school again--not that he minded, it was easier to actually go to class and get his work done when he didn't have rivals at every corner waiting for a scrap.  "Okay," he muttered dispassionately, waiting for the lecture to start.  "What's the third thing?"  
  
The principal didn't respond; just picked up a blue sheet of paper off his desk and handed it over.  
  
It was an expulsion order.  Not signed; the lines on the bottom with the names of the principal and other administrators blank and gaping.  It was filled out, though.  His name was typed in there at the top, a laundry list detailing his disciplinary and academic failings as the burden of proof for the document's existence.  It was all there, all ready, just waiting for a pen to scratch in signatures along the bottom.  
  
"I don't want to have to sign that, Sora."  The principal's hands were folded on the desk, thumbs twiddling.  "But if you pass summer school and come back here next year, the first fight you involve yourself in will result in that paper becoming legal and binding."  
  
Sora blinked twice, felt a tightening in his chest at the thought of explaining this to his mother.  To Kairi.  The others knew there was trouble going on, backed him up sometimes.  But he was their center, their captain.  He had to protect them, right?  From this and everything else.  He frowned a little, felt the tremor in his lower lip and tossed the paper back on the desk.  "Might as well do it."  
  
" _Sora_."  The principal made the admonishment with a frustrated shake of the head, gaze darting to the side to stare at some inspirational poster on the far wall before returning to his student.  "You and I both know that this isn't your fault.  It's a result of the culture that you have entrenched yourself in.  The hockey, the fighting, the gang mentality."  The man was leaning over his desk now, voice rising with each successive word, palms open and gesturing like he really believed what he was saying.  "Are you honestly going to let this destroy you and your life without fighting back?"  
  
He shrugged a little, staring down at the floor.  "What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Talk to your mother.  I know you have a good relationship with her; don't ruin that."  The principal sat back again, refolding his hands and his thumbs still twiddled.  "Let her help you find a solution."  
  
But, like most teenagers, Sora didn't really believe that any adult could help him solve his problem.  
  
  
  
  
  
Cloud made a habit of appearing outside the window on Friday nights, after the smog-laden blue of the sky had given way to darkness and the electric burn of streetlights.  Sharp rap of knuckles on the glass and Sora usually didn't bother looking; he was prepared, most nights, already dressed, skates at the ready in case they had a long way to go.  He'd slide the window open, and Cloud would pull the screen away from outside while Sora climbed out and toppled into the planter.  Cloud would nudge him with a toe and knock him over again, then push the window so it slid until it looked closed, but was really cracked just enough to pry back open.  Replace the screen while Sora was righting himself and dusting off bits of bark chips.  
  
Tonight, though, was 'last day of school' Friday.  Tonight, Cloud had a backpack that clinked a bit when he moved and a small turn at the corner of his mouth, because he was done with this school business now, anyway.  Already graduated two weeks before and had the papers to prove it.  Already had two weeks of celebration under his belt but tonight was the first time his friends could join him.  
  
So after the obligatory actions at the window, Sora grinned at him, and Cloud smirked back, and they took the quarter-mile to Kairi's place at a run, balmy summer night air wrapped around them thick and cloying.  
  
Kairi and Wakka were waiting at the driveway, and together they covered the eight blocks to this evening's venue in varying states of walking, running, and/or skipping (although this last was largely Sora and Kairi, arms around each other's shoulders and singing whatever they could think of that was most ridiculous.  Behind them Wakka argued that neither of them had even had anything to drink yet.)  
  
If Sora were to tell someone what he remembered that night, he'd say that Kairi was wearing vanilla perfume and her hair was swept to the side, clipped with a single barrette, long thin rectangle of white against the red.  That Wakka looked like a surfer with that headband and the printed cabana shorts.  That he'd found his favorite blue Hawaiian shirt and wore it open, and the silver crown on a chain around his neck was warm to the touch and thumped him in the chest a lot.  That Cloud hadn't bothered with a shirt at all; it was too damn hot, anyway.  
  
The venue was just another oversized villa somewhere in the easternmost end of the Village, somewhat sprawling with a pool out back and a vaguely familiar guy who answered the gigantic, windowed front door with a grin.  "Yo, Sunfield!  Got your entry fee?"  
  
Cloud hefted the backpack and unzipped the top, letting the guy peer at the contents and nod in approval.  When they moved past him, the thrum of music that pulsed through the house rattled all of them, vibrating through their feet and sucking them into its all-encompassing beat.  Kairi grinned at him, and he tucked her against his side, and Wakka pushed them both bodily to follow Cloud into the kitchen.  
  
There was booze piled on just about every available surface, empty cans rattling around in the sink and enough bottles of hard alcohol littering the counters to serve a full bar.  The island in the center was mostly clear, so after adding the six-packs out of his backpack to the surrounding piles, Cloud laid out their personal supplies on the cutting board.  A fifth of tequila, two limes and a salt shaker.  
  
"So," Kairi said after the requisite five minutes or so it took to get the shots poured, the limes sliced and a smear of salt across each of their wrists.  "What are we toasting?"  
  
Wakka shrugged, gestured at Cloud with his lime wedge.  "Congrats to the grad?"  
  
Cloud made a noise of derision, rolled his eyes.  "I've had enough of that.  How about to the summer?"  
  
"How about," Sora heard himself saying, mind back in the principal's office and the conversation he wasn't having with his mom, "to the future?"  
  
Kairi smiled, a slow and achingly sweet gesture.  Her lip gloss was glittery.  "Sounds good."  
  
Four little shot glasses clinked together.  "To the future!"  
  
It was a perfect tandem, heads tossed back to down the shots, slow burn of alcohol followed by the lap of salt, then lime wedges popping into mouths.  Perfect in time and synchronization, like skates rolling across asphalt.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora didn't get drunk--or, more accurately, he _had,_ once, and decided it was probably best not to do that again.  He'd have a shot, maybe two, just enough to relax and dull his nerves, and then he and his gang would leave their tequila to the rest of the partygoers and strike out to find some entertainment for the evening.  
  
He'd lost Kairi early on, sometime in the middle of a round of Mortal Kombat in the den; he lost Cloud and Wakka by the pool later when some of the more drunk girls at the party decided to have an impromptu wet t-shirt contest, which reminded him that he'd lost Kairi.  He forgot to keep looking for her while cackling at the guys doing keg stands in the kitchen, and he forgot to worry about any of them while watching the venue's host and some buddies freestyling in the basement.  Forgot, until later on when he was out on the deck with the smokers.  He wasn't one of them, of course; he was talking to an acquaintance, someone from school, and at some point the guy had looked past him and frowned and mumbled, "Isn't that one of yours?"  Gesturing with a lit cigarette, smoke rolling upwards with the movement.  
  
Sora turned then, and he saw--saw the guy from behind, halfway recognized him.  Saw the way his hand was wrapped around Kairi's wrist and the way she jerked against it, saw the way he held her in his lap, the way his other hand was moving up along her leg.  
  
He'd never been so fucking sober in his life.  
  
He didn't remember getting from the deck to the grass to the concrete surrounding the pool, but he did remember screaming, "GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING HANDS OFF MY GIRL!" around the same time Kairi slammed her fist into the dipshit's nose like the good hockey gang chick she was.  
  
He remembered, also, how the entire backyard, pool and all, went eerily silent around the time of the declaration, around the time Kairi wriggled away from the guy and slipped back to his side, murmuring, "Sora, I have to tell you--" under her breath, but the guy was standing up.  Creak of the deck chair and on his feet, teeth bared in a mockery of a grin.  Sora recognized him, vaguely.  Was pretty sure he was probably responsible for one of the scars on his face.  
  
"Your girl?"  The guy drawled, wiping blood away from his nose with the back of a wrist, and barked a laugh that was as false as the grin.  "Funny, that's not how I heard it."  
  
"Sora," Kairi tried again, low hiss in his ear.  "Leon's here.  So is Seifer."  
  
He bit back a curse, lifted a hand to push her partway behind him and let out a breath when he heard Cloud's footsteps somewhere in the boggling crowd watching this display.  The clap of Wakka's flip-flops.  
  
"See, what _I_ heard," the guy continued, approaching them along with the stink of alcohol that clung to him, "was that you _pretend_ she's your girl."  
  
"Don't listen to him, Sora."  Kairi's voice was hushed.  Tight.  
  
"Now why would _any_ healthy teenage dude only _pretend_ to be boning this smokin' hot piece of tail right here?"  He swerved on his feet, veered further in Kairi's direction with hands raised.  He was clumsy, though--too drunk, and Sora simply moved in front of her.  The guy coughed, scoffed in his direction and turned his nose up.  "Fucking queer."  
  
It wasn't Sora who threw the punch, surprisingly enough.  Or Kairi.  It came from somewhere behind him, and Cloud appeared alongside the fist, following through with a small, tight scowl on his face, watching the guy crumple to the ground.  
  
The blond cocked his head, shook his hand out limply, eying the guy's friends half-rising from their deck chairs.  His expression was so taut and hard even Sora cringed just slightly.  "You wanna go?"  
  
The friends didn't, naturally.  Cloud turned back to them, Wakka arriving at Kairi's elbow, and he rubbed his wrist, scowl dropping a few notches in general scariness.  "Tulane's calling us out," he said, conversationally, while around them the party resumed now that the show was over.  "And that Eastside gang."  
  
Sora shrugged, felt the weight of the damp heat in the air on his shoulders.  "On the street, guys.  No fighting in the venue.  Drunk assholes aside."  He stepped backwards, away from the friends helping Drunk Guy off the ground and turned enough to see Kairi watching him, lips turned down in a shimmery frown.  
  
"I don't know how he knew," she murmured finally, gaze dropping away and to the side.  "I don't go around telling people."  
  
"I know that."  Sora slung an arm around her shoulders, kissed her briefly on the apple of her cheek and steered her inside, listening to Cloud and Wakka's footsteps following.  Feeling the crown thump, thump, thump against his chest.  "It doesn't matter, he was just some guy."  He smiled a bit, laughed softly until she chuckled along with him.  "Some Drunk Guy.  I can't even think of his name."  
  
"Me neither," she cackled, and the air lifted.  
  
She moved away from his arm when they stepped out the front door and onto the street, Sora tugging the Hawaiian shirt straight on his shoulders and the others following him down the steps in a kind of formation.  Winger and defenders.  The house was spilling music out into the street now along with the three hockey gangs, Leon with his two girls and Seifer with the shorter-statured lackeys that followed him around everywhere.  Posers, all--tough guys who talked shit and roughed up and puffed out their chests but they were suburban teenagers.  There were no gangs here, just fools and wannabes.  Sora smiled.  
  
From the house, Montell Jordan was singing about bringing the old school back when the fight started.  
  
  
  
  
  
The floor under the bench at the police station was linoleum; relatively new, and Sora noted this while idly running the toe of his shoe over it, back and forth.  It would have been nice to roll skates over, smooth and shiny and they'd make a low whirring sound under his feet.  But his skates were at home tonight, his right eye was blackening with a bruise and his knuckles were aching and a little bloody, and the two officers talking a few feet away probably didn't care whether or not he thought his skates would sound nice on their linoleum.  
  
Leon was sitting directly across from him, leaning forward on his knees, bleeding from his lip and nose and forehead and scowling his usual scowl, though it may have been a bit darker that night.  To his right Yuffie was leaned back against the wall with her head tilted back, facing the ceiling, fingers tapping out random beats against the edge of the bench.  To his left Tifa had her legs crossed and was having some kind of strange conversation with Kairi that consisted mainly of mouthed words and pointed looks and body language.  
  
Every so often, Kairi would shift just a bit closer to Sora's side, or loop her arm around his elbow, and maybe that meant something like, 'Yeah, well, _my_ man could kick the shit out of _your_ man any day of the week,' or whatever.  He figured it was a girl thing and ignored it as much as possible.  
  
Wakka was staring at the ceiling in much the same way as Yuffie, on Kairi's other side.  To Sora's right, Cloud was slumped over with arms folded across his knees and forehead resting atop; he'd adopted the position the moment the officers deposited them on the bench, and hadn't moved a muscle since.  
  
There was a third bench, a little further down the hall and separate from them, and on that bench Seifer just _would not_ shut the fuck up.  A third police officer stood in front of him and his hangers-on with a notepad, listening to the tirade and scribbling away nonstop, though what kind of information he was actually gleaning from the lengthy tale of just what was going on and what the Eastside gang was doing in the Village and what happened at the party and how he'd cleaned up in some match against another gang weeks before, though what that had to do with anything was debatable--and it ended up making no sense, anyway, because the guy just talked and talked and  <i>talked</i> without ever really saying anything.  
  
Maybe that was some kind of defense.  
  
"So, what do we do with the rest of them?"  The first of the two officers asked in a voice that was clearly meant to be low and unheard but was completely audible to anyone in the general vicinity nonetheless.  
  
The second sighed a bit, rubbing his forehead--he looked like he might have been the one in charge, though Sora really didn't know how to tell.  "Process 'em and call their parents.  If anyone's over eighteen, they can go in holding for the night."  
  
Cloud stiffened--just a slight shift of tension in his shoulders.  Across from them, Leon actually stopped scowling long enough to look somewhat concerned and Yuffie straightened abruptly to look sideways at him and Tifa.  
  
Yeah, Sora thought.  Let's all realize at the same time that yes, this is serious.  
  
He stood up when the officer walked over, looked over his blue uniform to try and identify how he ranked among all the other blue uniforms in the building and utterly failed.  So he just stood, Kairi's arm falling away as she stared up at him.  
  
He said, "If Cloud stays, we all stay."  
  
A heartbeat later, Yuffie followed suit, fingers curled in the fringe of her shorts.  "I'm not leaving without them."  
  
And from down the hall, Seifer cackled and clapped his hands.  "Solidarity, yo!"  
  
And after some argument, that was how Sunfield, Tulane and the Eastsiders ended up spending the night in a small holding cell at the Lakewood Village police station together.  Leon scowled throughout the entire night, and Seifer never did shut the fuck up.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora's mother didn't find anything about the entire event even remotely amusing.  
  
She drove him home in a state of pensive silence, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hair mussed around her shoulders.  She hadn't slept since the officer called her sometime after two AM, and that knowledge alone made a knot of guilt coil up in Sora's stomach.  He leaned sideways against the car door, watching the dim gray of dawn drag past the window.  House after house, tree after tree, manicured lawns and SUVs and the entirety of his childhood on these streets.  
  
"Sora, what are you thinking?"  She asked but the tone didn't expect an answer, and he remained in place by the window.  She made a sound, a moment later, breathy and something like a prelude to a sob.  Her eyes were already red and puffy, dark circles underneath them.  
  
She didn't speak again until they were home.  Sora sat at the table, arms folded in front of him, while she drew the last cup from a pot of coffee she'd been nursing all night.  
  
"I'm going to tell you what I think," his mother said, and the tears in her eyes made his heart break before the words ever did.  
  
"I think about you never finishing high school.  I think about you never going to college and never getting a job that will pay for more than the cheapest rent in town.  I think about you never leaving this place and seeing the rest of the world.  I think about all the things I ever wanted for you and then I think that one night I'm going to get a phone call at two AM, and this time it'll be from the emergency room."  She pulled her tongue between her lips and paused, breath shaking when it left her lungs.  "Is that what you want for me?"  
  
He swallowed hard, fingers curling into his elbows.  "No."  
  
"Sora."  Her hands clasped tightly around the coffee cup, knuckles whitening.  "This has to stop."  
  
"I have to protect them."  
  
"Who's protecting you?"  Her voice was loud and sharp.  "Who's protecting my son?"  
  
Sora opened his mouth, and then closed it because there was no answer for that.  
  
"I've been offered a promotion."  She nodded slightly and dropped her attention to gaze at the murky coffee instead, and her voice was shaking.  "Director of marketing for region four."  
  
Sora nodded a little in an echo of her movement, shoulders rising and falling in a kind of acknowledgment, but he wasn't sure what this had to do with anything else, so he just mumbled, "Cool."  
  
"That's the northwest."  
  
He paused.  "So... we'd have to move."  
  
She nodded at her coffee before looking up.  "I'm going to take it."  
  
Sora was pretty sure the floor had just vanished from beneath him; maybe his stomach had dropped into his toes.  "Mom!"  
  
"There's a town in Oregon one of my coworkers told me about.  I think we should go visit."  She took a sip of coffee, avoiding his eyes for a moment, looked back up when she set the cup down.  "See how we like it."  
  
His voice caught somewhere in the back of his throat, the sound falling down along with his stomach to somewhere unreachable.  He was going to scream--intended to, had it all there in his mind, _No you can't do this to me this is my HOME!_ , but the action stalled somewhere between his brain and the look in his mother's eyes.  
  
"This is your chance for a clean break."  She was leaning on her elbows now, over the table, hands empty and palm up, fiddling nervously with her fingernails.  "A new town and a new school where no one knows who you are.  We can leave after you're done with summer school and all you'll have left is senior year.  Just one year, and after you graduate you can decide what you want to do next.  If you want to come back here--well, you'll be an adult and I can't stop you.  But just... give me this one year."  Her hand curled around his wrist.  "Please."  
  
Sora knew that this wasn't final, that he could jerk away and jump to his feet right now and say no.  No, he wasn't going to leave his home and his friends and school wasn't that important anyway, he'd get a GED or something if that blue expulsion paper was ever signed into existence.  No, he was going to stay here and things would calm down a bit, she'd see, they were all just posers anyway and it wasn't that bad.  No, the balance of his universe was not collapsing around him.  No, he didn't want to get out, didn't want to make a clean break.  
  
He knew he could have said all this, and she would have given in.  He would have been lying about most of it though, and so after swallowing a lump from his throat and wrapping his fingers around hers, he said, "I guess... we can go look."  
  
Like most teenagers, he didn't really believe he'd like the new place at all, but he'd visit and he'd move there if that's what she wanted, if that was what it took to keep her from crying any more.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _August, 1995_  
  
"Missing your own party?"  Kairi's voice was low and apologetic, her footsteps muffled on the floorboards of the porch.  She was wearing mostly white that night, and it made her hair look that much brighter.  "That's very gangsta, Sora."  
  
He was sitting on the porch swing, slouched down with his feet up on the railing and pushing himself back and forth with the sole of a flip-flop, staring at the poppies that drooped through the posts.  "You know... I thought of something," he murmured without looking up, hands limp against the edge of the swing's seat.  "At least now you can find a real boyfriend."  
  
"Oh _stop_."  She landed next to him ungracefully and smacked a hand across the top of his head in one quick and painful sweep, then petted his hair down in apology and leaned in against his side, arm around his shoulders, and her voice softened again.  "I don't regret a single second, and don't act like I don't know all the things you've done to protect me.  You're a good friend and a perfect gentleman, and half the women in the world would kill to hook up with a guy like you, whether it was romantic or not."  
  
Sora slouched down against her shoulder, felt her rest her cheek on top of his head and felt guilty anyway--years of posturing, years of this front so much so that it was almost natural now to be curled up with her like this.  And it was real enough, and it was a dangerous thing in their social circles for a girl to be unattached; he didn't want to follow trains of thought like Drunk Guy from the party and how many of those might be out there, trying to mack on Kairi or get her into a room or bounce her into their crew if she wasn't already clearly and openly on his arm.  
  
They would sneak away together on occasion, just for pretense, but they tried making out once and it just didn't work.  Touching her more intimately than a hug and kissing her any deeper than a peck felt like a violation.  And then, later, like a failure--because she deserved a little romance, if any girl on the fucking planet did, but she was tied to Sora and that was the one thing he couldn't give her.  
  
The worst part was, she forgave him.  
  
"This is the right thing to do," Kairi assured him from somewhere above, voice muffled by his hair and she was forgiving him again, now.  For running away to save himself, tail between his legs.  "I couldn't have wished for anything better, for you."  
  
She smelled like fruit, like raspberries and sea breezes and his breath caught in his throat and his eyes prickled and he was half-coughing, a few drops trickling down around his nose before he realized it and raised one hand to wipe them away in denial.  Kairi made a feeble sound that echoed his, strangely, arms tightening around him.  "Don't you dare cry," she murmured forcefully, brokenly.  "You'll make me cry, and my mascara will run and _then_ you'll be sorry."  
  
"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you guys," he said, a few minutes later when he was breathing normally again.  
  
"Tough it out."  Kairi was smiling; her mouth was pressed against his forehead and he could feel the curl of her lips.  "Just like you always have."  
  
  
  
  
  
The party was small, and by the end of it consisted mainly of him, Kairi, Wakka and Cloud and the nameless goalie wandering around in full gear for some unknown reason and randomly bumping into just about everything.  That might've had something to do with Wakka, who Sora was pretty sure had given him a shot or two of their last fifth of tequila--it was traditional, Wakka said, and they'd toasted the future again.  
  
The world turned into a pumpkin at midnight, though, because his flight left early and his mother demanded it, and his best friends in the world crowded around the door to say their goodbyes.  The goalie shook his hand vigorously and wished him well, suggested that he perfect his spin-shot and use it to wow the regulation players at his new school.  Wakka clapped him on the shoulder and knocked their foreheads together and told him to stay out of trouble.  And to watch out for bears; he'd heard there were a lot of bears in Oregon.  
  
Kairi just smiled, tilted her head and tapped her cheek.  "Sugar."  
  
Sora provided the requested kiss, and then hugged her for a good five minutes, memorizing her smell and the length of her hair and the angles of her body against him.  The way her voice vibrated in his ear when she hummed and drew away, smiling hard so she wouldn't cry.  
  
Cloud was leaning against the door, arms behind his head and unruffled, and when Kairi was finished with Sora he straightened--and, as tradition demanded, imitated her head tilt, tapping his cheek.  
  
And to the surprise of everyone--most of all himself, probably--Sora kissed his cheek, and pulled him into a tight hug, and if Sora had seen anything other than the backs of his eyelids, squeezed closed tight, he might have seen Cloud make a rock hand gesture at Kairi behind his back, and mouth the word "SCORE!" in all capitals.  
  
They watched him leave from Kairi's porch and Wakka was freestyling something old-school that he wouldn't remember later.  After the first block he stopped looking back over his shoulder.  After the second he had to pause every few minutes and take a deep breath because the last thing he wanted was for some random person to catch him shuffling down Sunfield Ave and crying.  By the time he arrived in the parking lot of the small apartment building he and his mother lived in he'd gotten himself under control aside from a lump in his throat and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and when he saw Leon sitting on the steps in front of his door he just kind of froze in place, because the night had already drawn his emotions taut enough.  
  
Leon noted his presence with a jerk of his head upward; he'd been staring at the ground between his skates, arms folded on the stick resting across his knees and his hair was loose, hanging haphazardly in his face.  He looked lost for a half a second, shocked--and then it vanished, he straightened and stood, shouldering the stick and giving Sora a narrow look.  "Get your skates.  We'll go one-on-one."  
  
"No."  Sora said it with a shake of his head, already moving forward to pass him because there was no point in a challenge now.  Nothing to prove anymore, and Leon probably knew that, too.  "I've got an early flight."  
  
The guy shifted on his skates, moved to the side so Sora could pass and just paused there, stick lowered to the ground and stared out at the street and the night and the burn of streetlights reflecting in the sky.  
  
Sora's hand was on the doorknob.  "Look out for them, huh?"  
  
"Sure."  The reply was curt but Leon cast a look back at him, momentary and just briefly understanding, before he pushed off and skated away, stick across his shoulders, and Sora stayed there on the steps until the sound of rollerblades on the sidewalk had faded completely.


	14. High and Dry

**14:  High and Dry**  
  
 _November, 1995_  
  
The remaining two days of suspension could be summed up easily with one simple word, that being: BORING.  To expound upon this concept, one could add the modifiers 'endlessly', 'excruciatingly', and/or 'as fuck' as needed, but suffice to say that with this amount of BORING, it was not necessary in the least to relate all of the events of these two days.  It should be assumed that Roxas had no books to read, and therefore nothing to distract him from making a teasing nuisance of himself; and furthermore that Sora ran out of homework to do, and therefore had nothing to distract him from singing random Oasis songs and cartoon themes under his breath.  
  
Suffice to say that there was more than one scrap on the linoleum during this time, similar in style to the one that had occurred on Monday, but with significantly less bile.  They were just BORED.  In all caps.  
  
And Roxas really hated Oasis.  
  
On Thursday night, though, the room was rather pleasantly quiet after lights-out.  They were both still beat up and rough around the edges from the fight in the bathroom; Sora's nose had a small white brace on it and was purple between his eyes and the side of Roxas's face was starting to turn a sickly yellow as the bruise healed.  And, also, from the small tussle they'd had a few hours prior because Roxas was making some comment about Sora's obvious virginity and Sora retaliated by singing _Champagne Supernova_ at the top of his lungs and everything kind of went downhill from there, at least until Roxas elbowed him in the solar plexus and Sora made a noise of clear and immediate pain.  Everything stopped instantly, then--because they didn't really want to hurt each other.  There was a kind of awkward pause and silence, and then Roxas had shrugged and went to get him an ice pack.  
  
In the dark, though, the streetlight drew an angle on the wall from Roxas's desk to the wardrobes, and the ice pack was melted and soggy on his chest.  Sora set it and the towel it was wrapped in aside on his desk and tucked his arm behind his head, and stared at the blue stripes of Roxas's mattress, blinking because he wasn't the least bit tired.  Being bored all day kind of killed any desire to sleep.  
  
He'd been picking through his mental files, righting the stacks of notes that had been bowled over by the arrival of his mother and the state of mind Roxas's two-day absence from his daily routine had caused.  Fake and Ownership were still sitting on the couch, black-lettered t-shirts denoting their representations and they both looked rather ruffled from the events of the week.  The idea of Riku was hovering somewhere between them, misty and partially-formed and Sora watched it waver like heat waves in the air over sun-baked pavement and wondered at it.  Wondered again about Riku jumping into that fight unprovoked and Riku's fingers tying together the necklace that was now resting on the desk just over his head in a coiled circle.  Wondered about Riku's face turning into his touch, like a momentary loss of control or a need that couldn't be expressed.  
  
The idea of Riku was an idea of Sora, really--of Sora meaning something that was more real than _real_ , even, to him.  And the idea of _that_ made warmth spread from somewhere in Sora's chest to his shoulders, down his arms and down into his stomach and settle there in a strange mixture of fear and anticipation.  
  
There was an idea of Roxas, too, somewhere to the side with a cigarette and a dog-eared paperback and it was like a partially completed puzzle with pieces missing everywhere, because Roxas only ever acknowledged half of the whole picture and what he told was even less of that.  There was a person-shaped hole there at his side, but Sora didn't even know where or how to start constructing the idea and theory of Axel.  
  
His notes sat in piles around him and Sora sighed, pulling his arm from behind his head to rub his eyes.  "Hey, Rox."  
  
Roxas wasn't sleeping, either, and Sora wondered absently what it was that Roxas stared at the ceiling and thought about.  "Hm?"  
  
"What's sex like?"  
  
The top bunk made a noise kind of like choking, mixed with snorting, mixed with barking laughter.  "Whad'ya mean, what's it _like_?  It's sex, it feels good."  
  
"Well--"  Sora grumbled to himself for a moment, trying to distill his meaning into words that weren't patently embarrassing.   "I mean, like... the first time."  
  
A hum like a half-laugh and a half-smile somewhere above.  "Unmitigated disaster."  
  
Sora frowned at the mattress and was sure, for that moment at least, that Roxas was yanking his chain.  "Everyone else says it's totally awesome."  
  
"It's a fucking lie," Roxas spat abruptly, and Sora paused.  "All that locker room talk is bullshit."  
  
He shifted to the side on his elbows, tilting his head back against the edge of the bed like he could see Roxas from there looking up.  "Really?"  
  
"It's awkward and sweaty and nothing like how you imagined it."  Roxas's voice was restless and the crinkle of sheets punctuated him as he shuffled around on the bunk, unsettled now from Sora's prodding.  "And then you end up with a killer fucking leg cramp right in the middle or something."  
  
"Really," Sora echoed, something stretched and amused in the way his mouth was curving up.  
  
"Hypothetically."  
  
Sora had an abrupt mental image of Roxas trying to massage a cramp out of his leg, while the negative puzzle-space that was his barely admitted boyfriend looked pathetic and cowed and asked with a sort of pout, 'Does this mean we never get to have sex again?' while Roxas, scowl affixed to his face, muttered back, 'Yes, yes it does'.   Sora withheld a snicker.  
  
"When you've been with someone for a while," Roxas continued without provocation, the shift of blankets and mattress above as he finally settled onto his side, "that's when it gets good."  
  
It was quiet, for a few minutes--Sora scooted back onto his pillow, considering this and considering Riku and considering the direction their relationship was taking.  Thinking about Sunday night and all the latent desire behind Riku's actions, the way he kissed and the way he pressed close and the fingers tracing Sora's spine, under his shirt.  How nice it had felt until he started thinking about it too much.  How kissing was originally supposed to be the climax of this whole scenario but had somehow become only the beginning.  
  
And just the idea of Riku touching him-- _intimately_ , and not necessarily in any particular place--made his cheeks burn and his throat clench and heat shiver down his spine and... yeah, he needed to stop thinking about that or he'd have to take another shower.  
  
So, he was turned to face the wall, then, and thinking rather pointed thoughts about his trig teacher in a sequined dress when something tapped on the window.  Although it was less of a tap and more of a ding, sort of, and either way he wasn't moving until his pulse had returned to a normal pace, so Sora had the grace to be rather grateful when Roxas dropped from the top bunk to go open the window and see what all this ding-tapping was about.  
  
After about a minute of whispering that Sora didn't quite comprehend--though by that point he pretty much had his rebellious teenage body under control, thank god--he was being hauled bodily out of bed and Roxas was shoving him into his jacket and shoes.  He wondered at this development dumbly for all of the two seconds those actions took, somehow, and at that point he was being pushed over to the window.  
  
Riku was standing at the foot of the tree, all silver hair and safety pins in the angle of the moon and street lights.  "Hey."  
  
Sora blinked.  "I thought you were grounded."  
  
"I am.  I snuck out."  
  
"You're going for a drive," Roxas informed him, giving Sora a shove until he climbed onto the windowsill.  
  
Roxas directed him in a stage-whisper on how to get from the sill to the branch, and then from the branch to the ground, and at one point he was dangling about a foot from the grass and Riku made the intelligent decision to catch him when he let go, which resulted in them collapsing in a tangle on the ground while Roxas tried to not snicker too loud somewhere overhead.  
  
Riku was warm.  Sora tried to not think too hard about this.  
  
Roxas tossed him his pager before they left, and Sora faced his early demise in the form of Riku's car with a brave front.  He tried to not think too hard about any of this, because Riku looked brilliantly pleased and a little dangerous sneaking around in the dark with him and if he didn't think too hard, everything felt warm and comfortable and less complicated.  
  
That cocktail of fear and anticipation was still curdled in his stomach, though, and it sloshed around rather a lot anytime he looked at Riku for too long.  It was late--it was _beyond_ late and well into single-digit hours and the streets they drove down were empty and the streetlights flashed red in the absence of traffic.  And once Riku turned onto a two-lane highway that wound its way into the desert, away from civilization and prying eyes, that cocktail bubbled up until the feeling was shivering through all his limbs and straight into his fingertips and the soles of his feet.  
  
Riku caught his hand when there were no more lights to stop for and no need to keep one hand on the stick shift--pressed their palms together and gave Sora's a reassuring squeeze.  
  
Something was going to happen.  
  
  
  
  
  
The back of a Tercel wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but a prudent guy would take what he could get on chilly nights out in the desert.  He'd left the radio on, keys in the ignition, and fumbled with the little knobs on the corners of the back seat to get it to lay flat, Sora watching from where he was curled in the passenger seat and chuckling at him when he cursed, but even with the amusement there was something strange and nervous behind it.  
  
He opened the hatch to let in the moonlight and the smell of sagebrush, spread out a blanket for some measure of comfort and found some random clothes to ball up behind his head, but even lying on his back diagonally his feet stuck out over the back bumper, and unidentifiable things poked him in the back.  
  
But _Sora_ \--  
  
Sora was curled on his side next to him, head pillowed on his arm and a windbreaker wrapped around his shoulders, still in his flannel pajama pants and a worn-out Batman t-shirt, shivering a little and snuggled close for warmth.  His eyes were open and watching the half-moon slowly creep up the horizon through the open hatch.  The tinny, static radio played _Better Man_ and he was singing softly along with it, tracing little circles on the fabric covering Riku's chest with one finger.  
  
 _Don't you ruin this, Riku,_ the most conscience-like voice in his head warned, and he closed his eyes and turned his head so his cheek rested against Sora's forehead, hair tickling his skin.  No fucking way was he ruining this.  
  
"So, Roxas told me his side of the story," Sora murmured, so soft Riku wasn't totally sure it wasn't part of the song for a moment.  Sora spread out his fingers over the NIN logo in the center of the t-shirt, palm flat on his chest.  Feeling his heartbeat, the rise and fall of breath.  "Want to tell me yours?"  
  
Riku licked his lips, let out a puff of air.  "Wha'd he tell you?"  
  
"Not my place to say."  Sora tilted his head up a bit, just enough to meet Riku's eyes.  He looked ethereal, eyes ink-dark with nothing but silvery moonlight for illumination.  
  
He hedged a moment longer.  "What about your side?"  
  
Sora scowled, and that wasn't the reaction he wanted.  "What part do you want to know, Riku?  The part where the principal handed me an expulsion order or the part where I spent the night in jail?  Or the part where my mom _cried_ because she was so afraid of what was going to happen to me?  I'm not that guy anymore, Riku.  I don't want to be and I don't want to talk about this when you still won't explain to me why the fuck you have this problem with Roxas."  
  
His eyes were narrow and his mouth was drawn and tight, and Riku thought he looked too much like the scowling Sora from the principal's office, and decided he was probably being an asshole, anyway.  He tightened his arm around Sora's shoulders, pressed his lips against his forehead.  "I'm sorry."  
  
Sora relaxed, after a moment.  "Yeah, okay."  
  
"Is this our first fight?"  
  
Soft chuckle, Sora tugging the windbreaker up higher and pressing his nose against Riku's t-shirt.  "I guess."  
  
Riku echoed the sound of amusement, lips curling up and nuzzled a lock of Sora's hair where it dipped over his forehead.  "Does that mean we get to make up?"  
  
"No."  Sora shifted, slid his arm sideways across Riku's body so his elbow was almost on the other side.  Chin resting on his hand and looking up at him, expectantly.  "We're not done yet."  
  
Riku licked his lips again, shifted his shoulders under him and traced his hand over Sora's back, staring up at the pockmarked roof of his car.  "I didn't want to tell you, cause I'd kind of like to give him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he feels bad about what he did.  He never apologized, though, so I don't see any point in forgiving him."  
  
Sora's eyebrows drew together, little wrinkles between them and across his forehead.  "For what?"  
  
"For humiliating me."  Riku clenched his teeth together for a moment, let it go because Sora was there, and it was two years gone now and there was no sense holding on that tightly.  "Him and his friends.  They thought it was great fun, fucking with the gay guy who just got outed.  Things were bad back then, Sora, like they are for you now, but Roxas... he made it worse."  
  
"That..."  Sora's voice trailed off and his mouth hung open, looking more perplexed by the second.  "Something about this doesn't add up.  What he told me has nothing to do with what you just did."  
  
Riku felt the scowl on his face, whether he wanted it there or not.  "Wha'd he say?"  
  
"I told you, Riku, it's not my place to say."  
  
"So, you think I'm lying?"  
  
"No."  Sora straightened a little more, head up off Riku's chest to hover over him, so much confusion playing over his face, visible even in the darkness.  "I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding."  
  
Riku moved his hand away from Sora's back, lifted it to rub his eyes, massage his forehead and shake his head a little.  No, no, he understood _perfectly_ , he was there when it happened and Sora wasn't.  Whatever Roxas said was some kind of fucked up version of the truth, and _that_ was the misunderstanding.  Sora's fingers touched his wrist, cold in the chilly evening, and pulled his hand away.  
  
The smile on his face was shy, a little nervous.  "I'm sorry."  Shrug of his shoulders.  "Don't worry about it, okay?  I heard what you both had to say and you called a truce, anyway, so.  I'll figure it out."  
  
"Okay."  Riku murmured it, reached up to brush his fingers over Sora's cheek, slide them through his hair (soft).  "Is our fight over now?"  
  
"Yeah," Sora murmured back, leaned forward when Riku's hand slipped around the back of his neck and kissed him.  
  
Riku would never get over how soft Sora's mouth was.  Pleasant brush and press of lips, tiny, experimental lap of a tongue against his and a pleased hum when Riku tilted his head.  Deepening, taste of Sora's mouth (toothpaste, mostly), exhale of breath through his nose.  
  
There was something nervous behind it, still, because it had to have occurred to Sora by now--Riku knew it already, had known from the beginning, that yes they were out here in the desert in the back of a car, no annoying blond roommates to wander in and no adults around for miles to stop them from doing anything in particular.  He figured something could happen--nothing big and nothing complicated because the back of a Tercel was a damn uncomfortable place, but _something_ could happen.  
  
Sora was still mostly against his side, so Riku shifted first, slid his arm around Sora's waist and lifted up on one elbow to turn them over, allowing plenty of room for Sora to wriggle over and make himself comfortable (and oh, fuck, Sora on his back and spread out beneath him and the whole of him there for exploration and their legs would have to fit around each other, between each other, and _fuck_ \--)  
  
Only it stalled there, the movement and the kiss, right at that shift and turn with Riku still on his elbow, because Sora just stopped and didn't move.  
  
Fuck.  Fuck, he doesn't want to.  
  
Riku swallowed away the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat and leaned back, returning to his previous position and his lumpy balled-up-clothing pillow.  That was fine.  Really.  The snuggling--that was nice, and maybe he could get a few more kisses in before Sora wanted to go home.  That was fine.  
  
He steeled himself for this, was fully prepared for it and so it was more than a little surprising when Sora followed him down.  Settled his elbows alongside Riku's arms and his knees on either side of Riku's waist and his eyes were a little wide and uncertain and he held himself there kind of stiffly, like he didn't want to rest his weight on top of him, but fuck--it was _Sora_ and his whole body was so close and warm it was almost indecent.  
  
"Oh," Riku murmured, just to vocalize that surprise.  Well, then.  
  
Riku tilted his chin up to kiss Sora, and he made a small humming noise and kissed back.  A little slow, maybe, but there was a heat behind it when he pushed his tongue between their lips and it tipped into something deeper.  Riku wanted to turn his head to the side and press up and make it something hungry, but Sora was nervous enough as it was and maybe it wasn't time for that yet.  He lifted his hands instead, settled them on Sora's hips and dragged them up his sides, threadbare t-shirt fabric catching around his thumbs.  
  
There was a shiver there, light in Sora's shoulders and Riku broke the kiss, let it wander down Sora's chin to his jaw, soft, slow pecks along it, hands sliding up over Sora's shoulderblades and felt it when he shivered again.  Felt the tremble of his limbs still holding him up.  Riku smiled at the corner of Sora's jaw, just in the dip beside his ear and nuzzled there, damp shampoo-smell of his hair and skin.  "What's wrong?"  
  
Heard Sora licking his lips, nervous habit but it was so close to his ear it sent a little electric jolt through Riku's nerves.  "Is this okay?"  
  
"Of course it is."  Riku traced the shell of Sora's ear with his nose, let his tongue dart out and lap at the curve of skin where the lobe met his neck.  Soft, tasted a little like soap and a little like salt.  
  
Sora's breath hitched in a way that was so damn erotic Riku thought he could probably come listening to it.  And maybe he could, if--  
  
Shift above him, just slight, Sora moving one hand up behind his head, into his hair, stroking there slowly and then a tentative, inquisitive nuzzle against Riku's neck in return.  Oh yes, that was very, very okay.  Riku made a soft noise, appreciative (and totally involuntary) and brushed his lips along the length of Sora's neck, pausing here and there for a slow press or a fast lick until he found the place that made Sora stiffen and gasp--it was behind his ear and a little lower, just at the edge of his hairline.  Riku chuckled softly, felt Sora let out a breath against his skin and plant a few wet kisses after it (mmm, that was nice) and then he pressed his mouth against that spot, laved his tongue over it for a moment, and sucked.  
  
He wasn't sure what he liked best--the jerky way Sora wriggled over him or the fingers that curled into his shoulders, or maybe the breathy _ah, ah_ sounds Sora made in his ear.  Either way, he stopped before it would start hurting, brushed his lips over it like an apology because there was going to be a mark.  There were three days till Monday, though, and by then Sora's hair would hide most of it.  
  
Sora's shoulders were trembling and Riku felt it echo through him, the shake and the way Sora's breath had a damp stutter to it that made _want_ spike through his nerves almost painfully.  Riku slid his hands back down, over Sora's back, to his waist and around--pushed the shirt up because he needed skin under his hands now, tilted his head to catch Sora's mouth again because he needed to kiss deep and hard and hungry now, tugged at Sora's hips because he needed him to stop hovering, needed Sora's body warm and heavy against him.  Needed to press up into it and rub against it (and he wanted so bad to just grab him and arch up and force them hard together, grind until Sora shuddered and went limp and gave in but no--that wasn't the way to go about this.  He had to be patient.)  
  
Sora didn't budge, though--his hands were moving a bit, one of them down from Riku's shoulders to pet experimentally over his chest and that was nice, yes, made his breath rush a little faster--but not enough.  Riku made a (totally involuntary) impatient, murmuring sound into the kiss, slid one hand over Sora's stomach, fingered the edges of muscle there and the round indent of his navel and brushed his thumb over the fine hairs just below that.  Felt how Sora's sharp inhale pulled the skin back from his touch, felt the shiver that ran through him and felt the kiss break into a gasp against his mouth.  
  
" _Please_."  Riku breathed it, tugged again on Sora's hip to indicate his meaning.  Opened his eyes (forgot when he'd closed them) to see Sora's, half-closed and fluttering with that touch and the breath of a word.  Felt the give, right there--in his body and whatever thought processes were holding him back, felt him sigh slowly and relax into his arms and felt Sora's body practically melt into his.  
  
Oh.  Fuck, yes.  
  
Riku kicked away the stick holding the hatch open, pulled his feet in while the hydraulics slowly gave way under the weight, ultimately shutting itself but by then Riku had forgotten about it and had his knees bent, hands all over Sora's back and pushing their hips together and the kiss broke, breath stuttering and Sora's came out in a low moan, head dropping down to Riku's shoulder and when he pressed up again Sora's entire body _shuddered_.  
  
 _No one's ever touched him like this before._   The thought rose into his mind abruptly and made Riku swallow, gasp a breath against the curve of Sora's neck and run his hands down, along the arch of his spine to trace fingers around the flannel waist of his pants, palms flat and down over the curve of his ass, down further to the backs of his thighs and felt the muscles there quiver, felt Sora's hips jerk a little and rubbed up again in response, building something like a rhythm with the way Sora was shivering, the way his hands moved up and down along Riku's shoulders and the way he lifted his head to kiss again.  Mostly breath and the press of lips.  
  
Shouldn't have been this hot, this fast--fuck, they still had their clothes on but Riku was already halfway gone, knew Sora was more than that and the flannel was warm from the skin beneath and the idea of it drove him crazy.  The fantasy of it, of Sora naked and panting like this, all these movements and sounds and if this slow (but not so slow) grind was skin on skin, if they were somewhere more comfortable and private and less like the back of a Tercel and if he was pushing up, if he was pushing _inside_ \--  
  
Sora's voice caught in a noise just as he thought that, somewhere between a stuttered breath and a mewl and oh, god--  
  
Riku's arms wrapped tightly around him, hips jerking up and gasped somewhere in the hair around Sora's ear and _fuck_ \--and Sora's fingers were curling in his hair, Sora's hips were rubbing back and the hitch of his breath was so much need-- _fuck_.  Murmured his name somewhere in there and--oh, god, tremor running through Sora, through him and into Riku and hot, hot--desperate move to kiss him because Riku wanted to see his face.  Caught a glimpse of Sora with his mouth open and his neck arching and the angle of moonlight across his hair and--  
  
 _ohgodyes_  
  
"S--Sora--"  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora was going to ignore the fact that he had just come in his pants--his pajama pants, no less, and he was going to have to be quick about changing them as soon as he got home.  If he was really, really lucky Roxas would be asleep and none the wiser, although with his observational skills he might notice in the morning that Sora was certainly not wearing the same flannel pants he'd gone to bed in.  This was going to require some careful maneuvering.  
  
In any case, he was going to ignore the fact, as that was kind of pathetic, even for a teenager.  Even for a teenager whose boyfriend had just done the same thing, in pretty much the same manner, which was strange enough--at least Sora had the excuse of inexperience.  Rather than address, the issue, though, he let himself float in the afterglow for the few, sweet minutes that it lasted, limp and hot and a bit sweaty, and listened to the slowing beat of Riku's pulse under his ear while his own breath evened out.  
  
Around the time something approaching a normal state was settling over them both, Sora felt a hand settle in his hair and stroke gently through it.  He hummed softly without really thinking about it, and thought he heard Riku chuckle a bit somewhere over his head.  
  
"I should probably get you home soon," Riku murmured after another soft and comfortable span of minutes.  
  
"The hatch is shut," Sora mumbled in response, noting this, and didn't quite remember when it was that had happened.  
  
"Mm."  Riku didn't sound surprised, so maybe he was the one who did it.  
  
Sora thought about how happy and relaxed Riku sounded, not really sleepy but-- _sated_ , he thought the word was.  He licked his lips and tried for another random observation.  "The windows are fogged."  
  
Riku chuckled again, louder and it dislodged Sora from his pillowed position on Riku's chest.  "Classic."  
  
With the hatch shut they had to clamber over the seats to get back up front, and Riku had to run outside to collect his hatch-propping stick, and the blanket from the back when he pulled the seat back to its upright position.  He draped it over Sora when he finally settled back into the driver's seat and Sora snuggled into it gratefully, still warm from their body heat, because outside the car it was cold enough he could see his breath in the air.  
  
They were waiting, he figured, for the protesting heater to clear the fog off the windows--Sora figured this as Riku didn't appear to be ready to drive anywhere just yet.  He had this perfect little smile on his face and was staring down at the radio dials like he might change the station, or maybe he was just staring.  Sora squirmed in his seat--there was something between them, in the air.  Not really different, per se, or changed or anything.  It was just _more_ , like they'd shared some deep secret and knew they both trusted each other implicitly with it.  It was nice, in a way, and in another way it was wholly terrifying.  And in light of it, Sora had no idea what to say or how to explain what was going on in his head.  
  
Eventually, though, Riku came out of his trance and turned his full attention on Sora to ask, "You okay?" with a curious-scared look on his face--he was afraid Sora would regret it, he thought.  Riku, he was discovering, was always afraid that he was going to change his mind.  
  
Sora hedged, not quite sure what words were going to come out of his mouth when he opened it and thus he shut it again for a moment to rethink that.  "Do I... say 'thank you', now, or what?"  
  
It was a question of propriety, Sora thought--that was probably something everyone ought to know.  What to say after someone gets you off.  No one had ever explained that one to him, though, so he figured 'thank you' was probably the way to go.  Riku, though, just stared at him for a long minute and Sora stared back, and under the dim dome light he noticed for the first time how light would halo around the edge of Riku's hair.  The way a lock of it fell forward over his nose and partially obscured one eye in a way that was kind of coy and boyish.  How his cheeks were still tinted pink and his mouth was red from kissing and there was a tiny red mark on his neck where Sora thought he might have nipped at some point.  
  
At the end of that minute Riku's face broke into a bright, toothy grin that made his face light and his eyes curve into sparkling half-moons and--this must have been some movie or one of Roxas's cheesy romances because Sora was pretty sure he stopped breathing.  
  
He was fucking _beautiful_.  
  
And Sora had less than a second for that epiphany to strike him because immediately afterwards Riku collapsed against the steering wheel and _laughed_.  
  
Sora watched this development with a blank look and wondered whether that was a good reaction or not--because he was really trying here, but there were some things he just didn't know and if he and Riku were going to have a... _physical_ relationship (shiver) he felt like he needed to know these things.  And if he was going to have thoughts like that about Riku being... _beautiful_ or whatever, he'd damn well better not laugh at him afterwards.  
  
He was a good-natured kid, though, and Riku had seriously lost it--he was tearing up and laughing harder each time he looked up at Sora, and after a while just the sight of that made him smile a little.  Tentatively, because he still didn't know just what the hell was so funny.  
  
Riku finally took a deep breath, shaking his head, wiping tears and bangs away from his eyes.  "God, I love you."  
  
...  
  
...Wait.  
  
Sora felt his breath catch again, for different reasons this time, and watched Riku's face drop from mirthful to wide-eyed panic in less than a second.  He opened and closed his mouth, eyes wandering from Sora to fix on the netherspace under his rearview mirror and the mental backpedaling and flailing behind that expression was so evident it was painful.  "Did... did I just...?"  
  
"Yeah."  Sora found himself melting into a smile despite the way his insides were tying themselves in knots and dancing in jitters and his brain was caught in a loop of:  _ohfuckhelovesyou, he LOVES YOU what the fuck do you say to THAT?_   "You did."  
  
"I--"  Riku tried again, and he was still flailing in minor ways and movements, habitually pushing hair behind his ear with one hand and wrapping his fingers repeatedly around the steering wheel with the other.  "I didn't mean--"  
  
 _OH FUCK he didn't mean_ \--Sora swallowed hard, licked his lips, forced his brain to a halt so he could breath and his stomach would stop twisting painfully.  
  
Riku paused with a jerk and shot a look sideways at him abruptly, once again realizing what he was saying too late.  Stared back at the keys in the ignition.  "No, no, I _meant_ \--"  Riku backpedaled only to stumble over his own voice again.  "Just... that was kind of a lame way to say it, right?"  
  
"Not really."  Sora shrugged, just slightly; he didn't know what else to do and the gesture was just--bashful, or something.  That sounded like the best word for it.  "I thought maybe you did."  
  
Riku's hands were tight on the steering wheel and for a long moment he didn't say anything, just stared down at his knuckles and swallowed.  "Oh."  
  
Sora didn't say anything in response, just stared down at the blanket covering his lap and fidgeted with the ends of it.  If the world was perfect, Sora thought, tuning in to Riku's mental soundtrack and the raging clichés offered by society and entertainment and the media that everyone renounced and longed for at the same time--Sora would be leaping up brightly, climbing into Riku's lap and declaring his eternal love in return.  And then the stars would light the sky brighter than the sun at noon and a swelling soundtrack would play and they would embrace and kiss the sweetest, slowest kiss that was ever kissed in the history of kissing, and the world would fade contentedly to black with the knowledge that everything had turned out just as intended, the happy ending was achieved and the hero would ride off into the sunset with his One True Love.  
  
The world wasn't perfect, though, and the silence that overtook the interior of the car threatened to suck all the oxygen out of the air.  The world wasn't perfect, but when Sora decided what the answer was going to be (whether it was the right one or not) and moved with an abrupt intent, pushed Riku's hair back from his face and pressed a short, hesitant kiss to his mouth, he figured that perfection came in varied degrees.  Some of these degrees involved how nice Riku's hair smelled when he buried his face in Sora's shoulder, and how warm Riku was when he wrapped his arms tightly around him, and the fact that Sora leaned back against the window and held him without ever showing any indication of wanting to stop.  
  
Riku didn't let go of him for a while, but the silence didn't suffocate them and they didn't really need to go anywhere, so that was okay.  
  
  
  
  
  
Of course Roxas was awake when Sora climbed back in the window.  He couldn't not be; to be sleeping throughout this event would have been a total and utter failure for him both as a best friend and as an accomplished troublemaker.  Of course he was awake.  And of course he was watching, very, very closely as Sora slid off the sill, leaned back outside and spent a moment stage-whispering something to Riku before leaning on one elbow, presumably watching as his boyfriend ambled away to his car, looking back over his shoulder occasionally to see if Sora was still watching.  
  
These two were the cutest fucking thing since kittens.  Honestly.  
  
Roxas sensed vulnerability instantly, and so he waited on his bunk in the dark for the most opportune moment to pounce.  That moment came roughly two and a half minutes later, after Sora closed the window and wandered a bit aimlessly into the room, then scurried over to his wardrobe with his jacket clutched tight around himself and started digging through it.  Right-- _now_ , when he least expects it!  
  
He slipped silently off the bunkbeds, tiptoeing across the linoleum until he was a bare step behind Sora.  Assured for a second or two that the kid hadn't noticed his presence yet, then straightened and folded his arms and said quite plainly, "Hey."  
  
If Sora wasn't actually a human being and bound by the laws of physics, he would probably have been clinging to the ceiling after that awesome of a startled jump.  "Rox!"  
  
"Sup."  Roxas offered him a sort-of-grin, something predatory and slightly knowing, and noted the pajama pants Sora was hugging to his chest.  Noted Sora, in the angle of the streetlight, a bit ruffled and wrinkled and just slightly sweaty around the edges, eyes too bright and mouth too dark and--was that...?  Oh, yes.  Yes, it was.  Little hickey, just below his hairline.  
  
Roxas moved in for the kill.  
  
Sora made an odd, squeaking noise and Roxas knew his prey was going to bolt.  He was pretty sure Sora wouldn't get far, but the kid made a break for it almost instantly, with impressive speed, and ducked into the bathroom.  Roxas almost caught the door as it swung closed, and they scuffled on either side of it for a few seconds but Sora gave it a shove, snapping the lock into place the second the latch caught.  
  
Clever move, but now Sora was cornered.  Roxas leaned against the door, tapping on the surface lightly with his knuckles.  Inside one of the sink faucets turned on.  "Sora..."  
  
"What d'you want?"  Sora's voice echoed a little against the bathroom walls, just a slight ring that made it that much louder without much effort.  
  
"Tell me," Roxas murmured in a tone that was not even remotely soothing, "why exactly are you washing up in the bathroom with a clean pair of pants?"  
  
Sora squawked defensively.  "Who says I'm washing up?"  
  
"The water's running."  
  
The faucet instantly shut off.  
  
"That proves nothing," Roxas informed him, tapping his fingers one at a time against the door.  "You show all the classic signs of having recently had a good fuck, so why not man up and tell your roommate all about how your first time went."  
  
"It wasn't like that!"  Sora's voice was taking on a high, distressed squeak that reminded him of junior high and cruel, cruel puberty.  
  
"Oh, yes it was.  If it wasn't, you wouldn't be changing your pants."  
  
"No!  I mean we didn't..."  A catch in his voice, a pause, and then the faucet turned back on.  "We didn't have sex."  
  
"Sora."  Roxas said his name very carefully and slowly, and shifted just a bit more upright against the door.  "You engaged in an activity with a second party in which at least one of you achieved orgasm.  This qualifies as sex."  
  
There was no sound from the bathroom for several minutes aside from the white noise of water running.  Roxas turned to lean back against the door, wood cold against his back and stared up at the ceiling.  There was a little emergency sprinkler just there, in the entryway.  He'd never noticed that before.  Hm.  
  
"I really don't think it counted," Sora mumbled, turning the water off.  "I mean, we were both totally dressed."  
  
Roxas raised his eyebrows, making a face at the sprinkler.  "Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Damn."  He needed a cigarette.  Or maybe his lighter, that sprinkler was kind of tempting.  Of course, then his boombox would get drenched.  That would be bad.  "That's kind of impressive."  
  
Some shuffling on the linoleum, whatever Sora was doing inside.  Maybe changing at this point.  "Really?"  
  
"Well, maybe not for a virgin.  But... yeah."  
  
Long, almost pointed, pause.  "What makes you think Riku isn't?"  
  
"Huh."  Roxas licked his lips, frowned at himself and the sprinkler and dropped it to the wardrobe instead, still open with Sora's clothes piled inside.  All shorts and t-shirts--Roxas really had to get him to the thrift store or the kid was never going to survive the winter.  "Well, it's not like I _know_ , it's just an impression."  
  
The silence was even more pointed, and longer.  
  
Roxas was pretty sure this wasn't supposed to be happening; _he_ was the predator, or at least had started out that way.  When did he end up on the defensive?  "I already told you I never fucked him, man."  
  
Sora didn't say anything.  Maybe it was punishment for Roxas's silent treatment, but what the hell.  
  
He figured it was only fair to clear up that much, once and for all.  "Look, there's only one person on this planet who's ever so much as kissed me, and Riku's not him."  
  
The levels of honesty that Sora brought him to were reprehensible.  
  
"You swear?  Swear it on--" the voice in the bathroom pondered for a moment, rattling plastic as Sora poked through the pile of product on the far side of the counter, "--Paul Mitchell."  
  
Roxas chuckled softly.  "Okay, fair enough."  
  
"Swear it."  
  
"I swear.  What, you want the boy scout salute?"  
  
The door cracked open, just enough for Sora to peer at him around the edge.  "Like you're a boy scout."  
  
"Hypothetically I could be."  Roxas shrugged, stepped back from the door a little so Sora could come out if he wanted.  Roxas still had plenty of questions and they would all be much, _much_ more fun if he could see Sora's reaction rather than imagine it through a door.  
  
"Hypothetically, Roxas," Sora intoned, eyes narrowing as he stepped out and flicked off the light, "you're nowhere near as world-wise as you pretend to be."  
  
"Genius."  He knew he shouldn't have been honest.  Roxas shrugged, like he expected this sort of deduction to come up; followed Sora over to the bunks and leaned with his arms folded on the base railing of the top while Sora climbed into his bed.  "So, how about some details?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Wait, I know.  He pinned you to the back seat and made with the heavy petting, right?"  
  
Sora scowled up at him.  "No one _pinned me_ to anything."  
  
Roxas gave that a good ten seconds of consideration; thought of that affronted scowl on Sora's face and thought of the last time he, personally, had been pinned to anything.  Now, _that_ was a pleasant memory.  "Why not?"  
  
"Because I'm not a girl."  
  
"Gosh, Sora," Roxas muttered dryly around a frown, "I would never have known if you hadn't told me."  
  
Sora rolled his eyes, tugged the covers over his head and turned to face the wall.  "I'm not talking to you anymore."  
  
"Fine, whatever."  He shrugged, straightened and backed up two steps, then hit the lower mattress at a quick run and launched up onto the top bunk, landing in a tangled huff.  Roxas settled himself, wriggling until he found the sheet under his body and tugged it straight, before speaking again.  "You should really try it, though."  
  
Sora didn't have anything to say about that.  Roxas shifted and muttered for a few more minutes, getting his cocoon of blankets back in place around him and arranging his pillow in a satisfactory manner under his face and let out a breath.  Called up a mental image to float around in until he fell back asleep--it started with that being-pinned memory, but morphed after a moment to the couch in Axel's basement back at his parents' house, faded green upholstery and the permanent haze the room always seemed to exist in, the angle of sun from the windowed door catching the smoke in whorls and the dust motes in little glints of light.  He was curled up against Axel's chest and everything was warm and quiet, and Axel was petting fingers through his hair in a way that was going to make him drift off to sleep any second now.  
  
That was an even nicer memory.  
  
Sora shifted around nervously on the bottom bunk.  "I think... he's in love with me."  
  
"You don't say," Roxas murmured sleepily and the sarcasm lost effect completely.  The half-dream was just too pleasant and he was too comfortable drowsing in it to really care if he riled Sora up or not.  But honestly, that much should have been obvious.  He noted the uncertainty in the way Sora made this statement, though, the way he seemed to be tensed and waiting on the lower bunk for some kind of retaliation or reassurance.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Roxas said into the pillow, smiling just slightly despite himself.  "It's a good thing."  
    
He'd nearly drifted off into a pleasant sleep and rather thought that Sora was in a similar state, but abruptly his roommate broke the silence and nudged him through the mattress.  "Rox."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Your cell phone is in my bed."  
  
"Oh.  Must've dropped it."  
  
"And you had your phone in bed with you because...?"  
  
Roxas chuckled, mostly because it had been too damn much work to get this comfortable and he wasn't going to ruin it all now by jumping out of bed to retrieve his cell and tackle Sora into submission.  "No reason."  
  
"You liar."


	15. When I Come Around

**15:  When I Come Around**  
  
Due to previously outlined levels of BORING, we rejoin our story and heroes at some point on Saturday morning, already in progress.  
  
"Get up," Roxas insisted, and tugged at Sora's comforter yet again.  
  
Sora made a noise rather like a hibernating bear in rejection of that idea and tugged back, burying his head further under the pillow.  
  
"Sora," Roxas said firmly in all seriousness, resettling his skateboard against one hip and kicking the bedpost in effigy, "it's Saturday.  Suspension is over, house arrest is over, and we are NOT staying in this fucking room one more second.  Now GET.  UP."  
  
Sora made a noise rather like a whining four-year-old in rejection of _that_ idea, followed by a noise rather like a squeak when Roxas found his wrist and hauled him upright.  "Noooooo, sun bad!"  
  
Roxas huffed and watched Sora squint and flail in the abrupt light, without much sympathy.  "It's not my fault you decided to stay up all night on the phone with your boyfriend."  He made this point while tugging the handset out from under Sora's blanket, then untangling the cord from around the bed's occupant.  It had long since given up on its dead-line beeping.  "I thought Riku was grounded, anyway."  
  
"He is," Sora muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and shaking his hand out of a loop of phone cord.  "His parents were out and he had something or other to blackmail his brother with."  
  
"That guy is less grounded while grounded than I ever was, dammit."  Roxas grumbled while stalking over to hang the phone up, one loop still stuck to Sora's foot but it stretched enough, anyway.  He turned to Sora's wardrobe and pulled it open, pawing through it himself as the boy on the bed was apparently in no hurry to start his day.  "You need warmer clothes."  
  
"S'not that cold," Sora muttered and shuffled around somewhere behind him, possibly tugging the last of the phone cord free.  
  
"Liar."  Roxas grabbed a t-shirt, socks and boxers that appeared to be relatively clean and shut the doors, sidestepping over to his own wardrobe and examining the contents thereof.  "Wait till it's fifteen below in January, and tell me that again."  
  
Sora hissed, presumably at the cold linoleum under his feet when he stood up and padded over to the bathroom.  "I thought this was supposed to be a _desert_."  
  
"High desert is not the same as your desert down south."  Roxas handed him a bundle of clothing as he passed, some cargos and a long-sleeved tee added in so the kid wouldn't spend the day shivering in his California gear.  He could be relatively kind and thoughtful, on occasion, if for mostly selfish reasons.  Wouldn't do for Sora to beg off early in the day.  "Wear your skates, but bring your shoes for later."  
  
Sora made a noise rather like agreement, and Roxas smirked as the bathroom door closed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Bright, Oregon was not a terribly big place, but Sora hadn't taken a whole lot of time to explore it.  In fact, his date with Riku was probably the largest walking adventure he'd gone on so far.  He knew where the school and dormitory were in relation to other important places like his mom's apartment, the nearest grocery store, the Flying Pie and that awesome drive-in he and Riku had visited, but not many places otherwise.  Thus, when Roxas dragged him away from the dorm and out into the late fall sunshine he really had no idea where they were going.  
  
They crossed the downtown area at a leisurely pace, both on wheels but not bothering much for speed.  Roxas gleefully cut through walkways and parking lots with NO SKATEBOARDING signs posted, making doubly sure to perform a few curb tricks before they continued on their way.  
  
It occurred to Sora at that point that he'd never really gone anywhere with Roxas before.  He figured, after some consideration, that this was probably going to be an interesting experience.  
  
They broke away from the downtown area near the freeway, just where the joint of an offramp curved away from the main road, two stripes of metal and pavement held aloft by massive gray pillars.  In the shadow of all this roadway and manmade material was more concrete, swathed out flat with some dull green of desert grass breaking the faded gray in square patches, some high curbs and ramps and a few corners raised and smooth like solid gray dunes.  And upon this swath of concrete sat yet more concrete and metal girders in a large, gently curved U.  
  
Sora figured this was a good call and followed along with renewed vigor.  
  
There was a guy standing by the half-pipe, examining the slanted expanse of wall alongside it that held back the dirt burm the freeway was built on, with a skateboard under one foot and even from a distance Sora could make out the bright, bold colors and graffiti-style word art emblazoned across the concrete.   It was a mural of sorts, not totally finished but the outlines of blocky shapes and shadowy moving human figures and the swirling retro background were all outlined and waiting for the artist to continue.  
  
When they approached, wheels clicking from the sidewalk to the smoother surface of the skate park, the guy shifted on his feet, thumbs hooked in the beltloops of surplus army pants and tilted his head back to look over his shoulder.  His hair was as cautiously and industrially constructed as Roxas's and almost the same color, even, only the guy's was in small ringlet curls.  Sora had a sudden flashback to the fight on Monday and threatening to inform the world in general of Roxas's secret fondness for the New Kids, and he would spend the rest of the day deliberately withholding the suggestion that the two of them start a boy band.  
  
It was really difficult, some moments.  Like this one.  
  
"Sup," the guy said, a little nod indicating politely that Sora was included with the greeting and somehow that movement made the thought occur to Sora that maybe this was _him_.  Roxas's someone.  Although he didn't look old enough to be in college yet and he didn't really look like the kind of guy to be carrying around a name like 'Axel'.  They looked rather good together, though, Sora noted when Roxas flipped up his board into one hand and drew level with the guy, looking the graffiti-mural over with something like a pleased expression on his face.  
  
"Z's been here," Roxas commented, waving a hand towards a corner where some of the swirly retro stuff and the silhouette of a skater performing a tailflip had been filled in.  There were a few cans of spray paint tucked into a corner of grass where the wall ended and a small, soft stretch of lawn began.  "That's all new."  
  
"Too bad we missed him."  The guy shrugged, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of suckers, offering the lot to Roxas first (he picked grape, of course) before selecting his own and then holding the last three up for Sora's choice.  He couldn't help noticing that the guy had kept the watermelon for himself.  Selfish bastard.  "Aren't they all having midterms right now or something?"  
  
Sora picked strawberry in resignation.  
  
Roxas half-nodded, not an agreement so much as a guess.  "Something like that.  Sora, this is Hayner.  Hayner, Sora."  He waved a hand dismissively between the two and popped the sucker into his mouth, dropping his board back to glide around the halfpipe and pause at a set of benches.  
  
Hayner made a scoffing gesture, attending to his own sucker for a moment before resettling his attention on Sora.  "He's a little bitch sometimes, isn't he?  I'm sorry you have to live with him."  He raised one hand briefly to clasp Sora's, then bump their fists together, then caught his shoulder and steered him in the direction of the bench, pushing off onto his skateboard.  Roxas was pulling off his flannel and eying the halfpipe critically, collecting various items from his pockets.  Wallet.  Keys.  Lighter.  Paperback.  Hid that one quickly under the flannel.  
  
Sora smirked.  "He's not that bad,.once you crack the code."  
  
"No shit," Hayner cackled, something knowing and bright in the laugh and the way his eyes traveled past Roxas to the halfpipe.  "So, you do any trick skating?"  
  
Sora offered a nonchalant shrug, shifting on his rollerblades and mimicking Roxas, pulling all the loose items out of his pockets.  Truthfully, he hadn't been on a halfpipe in a while.  "A little."  
  
"Don't let him fool you, man," Roxas said abruptly, loud and somewhere behind him.  "He lead a hockey gang in California."  
  
Sora let out a low hiss of breath between his teeth, scowling over his shoulder when Roxas drew level with him.  "Why'd you tell him that?"  
  
"Dude."  Hayner made the interjection with an expression that staggered between awe and respect.  "That's fucking _awesome_."  
  
"That's why."  Roxas smiled, almost honestly, something still teasing in there somewhere and kicked up his board to climb onto the side deck.  "It's you, Sora.  It's real."  
  
He supposed it was.  Maybe.  He decided, after thinking for a few minutes, that he'd set it aside for now in favor of skating.  
  
  
  
  
  
Pence was this messy-haired heavyset kid in a red basketball jersey who showed up about an hour later with the pigtails-and-cords girl from the hall outside the principal's office affixed to his arm like a strange permanent attachment.  He had a bright smile that he directed at pretty much everything (his attachment in particular) and a skateboard under his free arm.  Despite all this, Sora didn't think anything particular of him aside from the fact that he got the cherry sucker (and the girl took the green apple), until he got on the halfpipe and put them all to shame.  
  
Neither Roxas nor Hayner appeared to be surprised by this, so Sora didn't comment and allowed Pence to proceed with emasculating all of them for another hour.  
  
Olette stayed on the bench; she was curled on her side, knees bent and ankles crossed, head propped on one elbow and a paperback curled in her hand.  Sora had a perfect view of her for a few moments, perched as he was on the halfpipe's railings while he caught his breath and watched Hayner wipe out while attempting something fancy (again).  
  
Lounging there reading, though, she reminded him so strongly of Roxas that after a minute of perching and watching Sora climbed down the steps to go join her.  
  
She sat up when he approached, rolling forward kind of absently and still not entirely certain what moved him to come down here except that she was some strange common denominator between Roxas and Riku.  She smiled, and the freckles on her cheeks stood out, and she folded her legs across the bench and folded her hands around the book in her lap and waited for him to sit.  Like she'd just been here waiting for him to come and ask her questions.  
  
Sora sat down, but once there wasn't sure where to start.  
  
"It's nice to finally meet you," she murmured, and her voice was half a laugh and partially nervous.  Which was nice; she wasn't quite sure where to go with this, either.  "Guys don't seem to get the whole concept of introducing people they know to each other, so I've had to tolerate just hearing about you from everyone."  
  
"Everyone?"  
  
"Roxas, mostly.  Some from Riku by way of Tidus and Selphie."  She shrugged a little, almost an apology.  "I don't get to see him much these days, but Selphie is ecstatic.  She says he was smiling."  
  
Riku's smile sprang to mind instantly, complete with the tilt of lips and the way his eyes curled upwards and the fall of hair framing his face, and that was exactly how he'd looked right before he said--  "He was?"  Sora licked his lips, paused with one finger against the grain of wood beneath his hand.  "About me?"  
  
Olette had a smile that was kind of like a warm drop of rain landing on your cheek--surprising but not unpleasant, and almost pleasing so that you came to expect more after a moment of considering it.  "Who else?"  The book fluttered its pages under her thumbs and she tilted her head, watching him.  "Why'd you come down here, Sora?"  
  
He figured that much was obvious; leaned back with his hands against the wood, let his head rest on his hunched shoulders.  "You know them both."  
  
Her eyebrows climbed up a little, book tilting from side to side as she flipped through the pages like shuffling a card deck.  Small hum almost like a laugh.  "I suppose so."  
  
"You know why they hate each other?"  
  
Shrug; small, apologetic shake of the head.  "Roxas used to run with the seniors.  Or, well..." she rolled her eyes slightly, as clearly they were all seniors, now, "the older kids.  They were seniors when we were sophomores, and that's when Riku got outed and everything happened.  We didn't really know him as well back then--Roxas, I mean--we _knew_ him, we've been classmates since junior high, but the older kids were his crew.  So... maybe Axel knows."  
  
Sora blinked.  "You know Axel?"  
  
Olette laughed and it was rain-soft the way her smile was.  "Of course I know Axel, he's Roxas's best friend.  We've all been coming to this park since we were kids."  She raised the book and her expression morphed into a salacious grin, waving it at Sora.  The cover looked suspiciously familiar.  "I'm his enabler and supplier, by the way."  
  
"Of Harlequin."  
  
"Good job getting the word out, by the way.  It'll do Roxas some good having girls chase after him."  
  
"Roxas hates girls."  Sora said this with a matter-of-fact grace, no suggestion because clearly this girl didn't know the truth.  "Except you."  
  
She raised one eyebrow in question, casting a glance sideways at the halfpipe where Pence was standing on the side deck and making hand gestures to explain a move to Hayner.  Roxas was in motion, smooth down-and-up curves from side to side, simply grabbing both rim and board at each upturn and returning again.  It was rhythmic, like hypnosis.  Like zen.  
  
"I don't mean it like that."  He made the correction with a shrug and changed the subject before he had to explain his reasoning any further, because sooner or later there was no further explanation to be given than the fact that Roxas appeared to prefer boys.  "What about Riku?"  
  
That laugh again, soft and gentle.  "There was a time when everyone knew Riku, for different reasons than they do now."  
  
"You're not going to tell me the whole story, are you?"  
  
She smiled at him, and the halfpipe and it's occupants and the bars of freeway undersides above them.  "It's not mine to tell."  
  
  
  
  
  
The sky was kind of nice, like this, Sora thought--although he couldn't see much of it past the overpass but if he looked diagonally, past the concrete and around to the space above the mountains in the distance, he could see the white pinpricks of stars pulsing in a slow, steady beat.  Along with his heart, he noticed.  They were different sizes.  And if he looked at the edge of the overpass he could tell that the light was different, the angles of it were harder and whiter and the pleasant lethargy creeping around his body found this slightly amusing.  He kicked his feet just a bit to work some of that lethargy away, and remembered that his feet were dangling off the edge of the halfpipe, that the concrete was cool under his back and that his skates were still on, making skittery rolling sounds against the ground when his feet moved.  Somewhere behind and above him Roxas and the others were talking, although he could only grasp parts of what was being said.  Their voices were pulsing in and out in the same rhythm as the stars.  
  
The back of his head felt funny.  
  
"Hey."  Roxas appeared in his line of sight abruptly, arms folded on the ground somewhere above Sora's head and his face hanging upside-down above him.  "How's the chronic treating you?"  
  
"The stars are different sizes," Sora informed him seriously.  
  
Despite the seriousness, Roxas apparently found this hilarious and leaned back to bury his face in his arms and laugh about it for a few minutes.  Sora blinked for those few minutes, until he realized what Roxas found so funny and joined in.  And once _he_ started laughing it started Roxas laughing all over again, and after ten minutes or so of this (he supposed, but his concept of time was long gone by this point) they were both curled on their sides and clutching their stomachs and Sora was begging, "Stop, stop, I can't breathe!"  
  
"Fucking stoners," Hayner muttered somewhere above and behind them, but he was chuckling around it and that kind of killed the venom.  
  
"We gotta take off, Sor," Roxas said, pushing himself up to sitting and rubbing tears off his cheeks, still snickering a little between breaths.  "The cops start prowling around here after nine."  
  
Sora mirrored Roxas's movements and noted how the world spun rather a lot, and he remained propped and sitting and had to run Roxas's words through his head a few times before he caught their meaning.  "Ah.  Yeah, okay."  
  
"You should take your skates off," Pence advised, and somehow he and Olette were sitting next to him though he had no idea when they'd gotten there.  Had they been there the whole time?  He couldn't remember.  "Before you stand up."  
  
Sora blinked and looked at his feet.  Oh yeah.  
  
Time messed with him for the next few minutes, possibly because everyone was moving and trying to find all their things and trying to remember what they had to begin with.  Sora took off his skates, then put one of them back on because he forgot what he was doing until Roxas reminded him and handed him his shoes, and somehow when the few minutes were over he was sitting on the edge of the halfpipe looking down at his feet, with a skate on one and a sneaker on the other, completely baffled at how this had happened.  
  
Fortunately, the other four took pity on him, corrected his footwear, got him to his feet and replaced his wallet and housekeys in their respective pockets.  Olette tied the laces of his skates together and draped them securely over his shoulder and smiled at him in farewell.  "Don't forget that you didn't lose them, okay?"  
  
Sora grinned back because he couldn't think of anything to say.  Then he hugged her, cause it seemed like the thing to do.  Then he hugged Pence, cause he looked slightly jealous at this hugging his girlfriend business.   Then he hugged Hayner, because Hayner had brought suckers and his laugh was funny.  Then he hugged Roxas because Roxas was there and Sora liked him and he was all flannel-covered and snuggly.  
  
"Dude," Hayner said somewhere at the end of all this, "go home and sleep it off."  
  
"No," Pence countered, and Sora thought he might be shaking his head but he wasn't sure, as he was still mostly buried in Roxas's flannel.  "Get some ice cream first.  Strawberry.  Trust me on this."  
  
Strawberry ice cream.  That sounded good.  That sounded really, _really_ good, more good than strawberry ice cream had ever sounded before.  The thought of it made him lick his lips, and his tongue stuck to them rather a lot, and he made a smacking noise and wriggled around in Roxas's flannel some more.  Roxas didn't seem to mind all that much, he was just standing there patting Sora idly on top of his head.  "I'm thirsty."  
  
"No shit," Hayner cackled.  
  
"Get him some water, Hayner."  Olette had a mom voice, or at least did when she wanted to.  Sora kind of liked it.  
  
"Fuck no, he's Roxas's virgin.  Roxas can take care of him."  
  
"I think we're all forgetting," Roxas said abruptly, and the sound of his voice was low and vibrated against his flannel and Sora's cheek, "that we need to split."  
  
Time messed itself up again at that point, and although most of what Sora remembered of what passed was Roxas and Roxas being warm and Roxas's flannel, he was pretty sure he said goodbye to everyone, and may have informed them all that they were now his best friends, and that they were totally going to hang out again and would be together forever and other trains of happy, unconditionally loving thoughts that spilled out of his mouth without provocation but no one else seemed to mind and in fact echoed most of what he said, so it was all good.  
  
The next thing he remembered clearly, though, was the water jug, and that was the most wonderful thing he'd ever seen.  
  
He drank half of it before Roxas told him to take it easy, but Sora suspected that was mostly because he wanted a drink, too, and by the time they stashed it back among the spray paint cans it was about a quarter full, and he thought this was kind of funny.  
  
"Hey Rox," he asked, because the THC in his system was subliminally informing him that while they were both as bombastically faded as they were he could ask anything and Roxas would actually answer him, "who's Z?"  
  
"A friend."  Roxas expertly steered him away from the graffiti mural and onto the street, skateboard tucked securely under one arm and Sora tucked securely under the other.  "He's in college, same as Axel.  And Dem and Larxene.  I thought they might show up today but they all have this annoying habit of working on Saturdays."  
  
"Oh."  Sora took this in, stored it away, and continued while he was still focused on the conversation enough that he might remember it later.  "So, do any of your friends know about you and Axel?"  
  
Roxas shrugged a little, awkwardly both because of his varied cargo and the disquiet of the question.  "Not really.  I mean, Z does, but that's kind of--okay, I climbed in Axel's window one day, and he was helping me up and I just... started kissing on him right away and didn't notice someone else was in the room.  It was totally stupid but I guess I'm lucky it was Zex and not some random person, or Larxene or something.  She wouldn't have kept her mouth shut."  
  
Sora grinned--this was awesome!  He had to think of more questions to ask, now, while Roxas was being all talkative.  He rolled his head on his shoulders absently; his neck felt stiff, and the back of his head still felt funny, and his brain was all milky white fuzz.  They stopped walking abruptly so Roxas could light a cigarette, and while stopped Sora's brain caught back up a little bit.  "So, is Axel okay with that?"  He asked, watching the wisps of smoke curl into the air.  They looked really cool.  "With you guys being under wraps?"  
  
Roxas paused there with his thumb and forefinger wrapped around the cigarette, just shy of his mouth and staring ahead into the netherspace between a lamp post and a parked car.  He looked really young like that, up close.  "I... don't know."  
  
They started walking again a minute later, when they remembered that they'd stopped.  
  
"So, why'd you get kicked out?" Sora asked after a block or two (he wasn't totally sure how far, actually, or which direction they were going or how much time had elapsed; he had a vague faith that Roxas had a better idea and would keep them on track), and some comfortable silence.  The evening around them was sharply cold, and he noticed this on occasion when he wasn't focused on something else.  
  
"I didn't, I told you."  Roxas smushed his cigarette out under the heel of his All-Stars (the yellow ones, today) and they were paused on the sidewalk again for a moment while he looked from side to side and determined that they needed to go right.  "I left."  
  
"Yeah, but how come?"  
  
"My dad caught us."  Roxas said it abruptly, reached out awkwardly with the skateboard under his arm to punch the button for a crosswalk.  "He was a dick about it, so I left."  
  
Sora leaned against him absently and noted how they were the exact same height.  He thought about his mom, suddenly, and that made him want to offer comfort.  "Hey Rox."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're my best friend."  
  
The chuckle vibrated against his side.  "Yeah.  You're mine, too."  
  
Sora grinned brightly, but it drooped when he realized something.  "Hey, Rox."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think I forgot my skates."  
  
"They're on your shoulder."  
  
Sora reached up to check and--sure enough, there they were.  "Oh yeah."  
  
He faded out for a few minutes, had vague recollections of walking and streetlights and closed-up shops passing along the sidewalk, and then there was another crosswalk and Roxas had another cigarette, and Sora didn't remember that happening but he went with it anyway.  The air was cold and sharp and it felt nice in the places where his skin was bare, and he smiled a bit at the world and what a fun place it could be sometimes, and so when they started walking again he started singing.  
  
"How many special people change, how many lives are living strange, where were you while we were getting high--"  
  
Roxas groaned, pausing just long enough to kick him in the ankle somewhere in the middle of the crosswalk.  He thought he heard a car horn protesting the length of time they were taking to cross, but he wasn't sure.  "God, Sora, _no_."  
  
"Slowly walking down the hall faster than a cannonball, where were you while we were getting high--"  
  
"So help me, you are going to stop listening to Oasis if I have to beat it out of you."  
  
Sora decided to take pity on him at that point and they continued in silence for a few more minutes until Roxas's cigarette was spent and disappeared somewhere into the night.  "Hey Rox."  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"You love him, right?"  
  
Their steps slowed again, came to a halt outside someplace called the Tilt.  Sora peered at the darkened windows; it was an arcade!  Sweet, he'd have to come back here sometime.  
  
"I... yeah," Roxas murmured, swallowed, and he was looking at the arcade's windows, too.  Like it was something familiar, and maybe it was.  Maybe he'd have to come back here sometime with Roxas.  
  
Sora smiled at him and said, "It's a good thing, right?" and nudged him until they were walking again.  He was pretty sure Roxas agreed with him without saying anything and Sora figured knowing this meant he really was his best friend.  
  
So after they were walking again he was thinking of Kairi, and Roxas and so he started singing:  "What's with these homies dissin' my girl, why do they gotta front--"  
  
Roxas made another noise of exasperation but he shook his head, grinned and started singing, too.  "What did we ever do to these guys that made them so violent..."  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku, it should be noted, was more than a little devastated that Sora wasn't at the dorm when he arrived.  Extremely so, in fact, as he hadn't seen or touched Sora since he'd dropped him off Thursday night, and that was almost forty-eight hours ago, now.  He missed Sora and after spending the evening on the phone with him (all through _The X-Files_ and into thereafter, and he'd woke up that morning with the phone beeping in his ear and his mother in the doorway with her hands on her hips, frowning at it and him) Riku figured that Sora missed him, too, and would spend his empty days in his dorm room pining for Riku until Riku came to see him.  He couldn't possibly have anything better to do.  Right?  
  
Of course, Riku would have been there earlier but his mom had caught him with the phone, and therefore he had to finish the garage before she'd let him go anywhere.  
  
He'd had a plan, initially.  His plan involved milkshakes, followed by pleasant walking and conversation, followed by a darkened patch of grass somewhere in the park where no one could see them making out.  His plan involved warming Sora's body beneath his and working fingers underneath clothing and drawing out the kisses and the touches and the long, heated shudders to great length, for as long as he could.  His plan involved all those fantastic noises Sora had made in the car the other night and probably having to change his pants when he got home again, too.  
  
However, those plans ground to a halt when he walked into the dorm and the sweet smiling lady behind the counter informed him that Sora and his roommate had been out all day and weren't back yet.  After his moment of hurt and confused disbelief passed and he forced out some questions, he learned that they had left on wheels and headed towards downtown.  
  
If he remembered correctly, there was a skate park on the other side of downtown, and if he ventured a guess he figured that might have been where they went, and thus, having nothing better to do, Riku locked up his car in the dorm parking lot and started walking.  
  
The night was pretty chilly, and he wondered if Sora had taken a jacket or learned to dress warmly yet.  If he and Roxas were going to be civil with each other, then maybe he could civilly inform the blond that he ought to be taking care of Sora if they insisted upon being _friends_ , and that this involved making sure he wasn't going to give himself hypothermia.  He was wording this encounter in his head, and attempting to keep his less conscience-like inner voice from berating and insulting the mental Roxas he was rehearsing for, and staring at the sidewalk passing under his feet, and this is the point at which he heard the singing.  
  
And when he looked up, Roxas and Sora were stopping at a crosswalk just a block away, all entangled with each other and waiting idly and unnecessarily for the empty street to clear before half-skipping across, and they... were they singing _Buddy Holly_?  
  
...yes, yes they were.  
  
Riku stopped on his own patch of sidewalk and watched them continue towards him, noted that Roxas was actually in tune despite Sora being rather off-key, noted that neither of them had any concept of their surroundings when they both paused at the corner and looked around like they weren't sure which way they were going, or even if they should have crossed the street.  He stood there until finally, after an interminable amount of time that only he seemed to be aware of passing, both of their attentions landed on him at the same instant and there was a startling, awe-filled moment of recognition.  
  
"Riku!"  
  
It was Sora who cried his name-- _cheered_ it, really, like he hadn't seen him in an eternity and was unfathomably happy to have randomly stumbled upon him _here_ , of all places.  The sound made Riku's heart jump just a little and he smiled, kind of ridiculously, but he didn't really care if it was ridiculous or not because a second later he had his arms full of Sora, and that kind of required all his attention.  
  
In fact, when Sora snuggled flush and warm against his chest and turned his face in to nuzzle his neck and murmured, "Mmm, Riku," in a slow, sleepy tone, Riku rather forgot that Roxas was there, even, and that furthermore they were standing in the middle of a sidewalk in perfect view of the general public.  Right up until Roxas had to clear his throat and interrupt them.  
  
"Sup," Roxas said with a bright grin, and that was probably the most congenial expression Riku had ever seen or heard coming from Roxas.  Something was off here, tonight.  
  
Sora wriggled in his arms and turned his head just enough to look back at Roxas, brilliant smile on his face and cheek pressed right over Riku's heart.  "Riku's here!"  
  
"Yeah, I know!"  
  
"Isn't that awesome?"  
  
"Totally!"  
  
Something was definitely off.  Riku frowned and Sora looked up at him, still smiling for a moment, then abruptly his expression fell.  "Oh no!"  
  
Riku blinked.  "What?"  
  
"I forgot my skates!"  
  
Riku noted the rollerblade that was currently crushed against his ribs, which was dangling over Sora's shoulder.  "You mean these skates?"  
  
Sora looked over at his shoulder, and then down, and brightened instantly.  "Oh yeah!"  
  
Behind him, Roxas cackled.  "Dude, that's like the fifth time you've done that."  
  
Everything became clear to Riku at that point, and he reached up to clap a hand over his face and rub his forehead, because fate clearly hated his ass tonight.  "Sora."  
  
"Mm," he murmured, burying himself in among the safety pins and fabric on Riku's chest once again.  "You're warm."  
  
"Never mind.  Roxas."  Riku focused his attention instead over the top of Sora's head, which was difficult with all the random brown spikes in the way, but the boy in question was mostly visible.  "You were planning on sharing, right?"  
  
At least Roxas's shrug was apologetic, even if the wicked grin never quite left his face.  "Sorry, man, it wasn't mine."  
  
"Where were you while we were getting hi-igh?" Sora sang to his t-shirt logo.  
  
Great.  So, Riku thought, just to reassess the situation, here he was on a Saturday night, in the middle of a random sidewalk in the middle of downtown, with an armful of Sora he couldn't do anything about and an annoyingly amicable Roxas that he couldn't do anything about, and his evening was shaping up to consist primarily of babysitting the two little stoners.  Wonderful.  
  
He spent a moment like this mentally grumbling to himself and bemoaning all his now-destroyed plans and frowning at the world in general, but then Sora was tugging at his shirt, and Sora was pressing closer and Sora was nicely warm, and Sora's hand ran up and around his neck and Sora's mouth wrapped around his and despite the fact that he tasted rather unpleasantly like pot and cottonmouth it felt pretty good.  It felt pretty good that Sora was kissing him and didn't care that Roxas was right behind him, and that they were technically in public although there really wasn't anyone around on this street when all the stores were closed for the night, but he also figured Sora had very little in the way of any real idea of where he was or what he was doing, but he did murmur "Riku" into the kiss a few times, so at least he knew who he was doing it to.  That was a plus.  
  
Around the time Sora made a soft, needy sound against his lips and rubbed his knee against Riku's thigh, though, he figured it was time to stop.  Not because he particularly wanted to, but because this really wasn't the place and Roxas was whistling something idly with his hands behind his head and staring up at the night sky.  So, Riku took him by the shoulders and pushed him back gently, and Sora's eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed and he smiled sheepishly after the moment it took for him to realize what was going on.  "Sorry," he giggled and bumped their noses together playfully, and Riku could get used to a playful Sora.  "It just felt really good."  
  
"Roxas," Riku said after the minute or so it took to get himself under control and _not_ shove Sora against the wall and do wickedly awesome things to him while the drug in his system had all his senses heightened.  Sora nuzzled back into his shoulder, oblivious to his boyfriend's intentions and uncaring of being talked over like this.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"This is his first time, isn't it?"  
  
Roxas cackled and poked Sora in the back.  "Total virgin.  All this," he waved one hand around Sora's general person in indication, "is on one hit."  
  
"Roxas raped me," Sora informed Riku's shoulder.  
  
"That's lovely," Riku muttered and wished stoner jargon was less sexual.  "We should probably get you home."  
  
"No, wait!"  Sora shoved away from him abruptly, looking around the empty sidewalk and mostly empty street alongside it, blinking in the night and the streetlights.  
  
"Your skates are over your shoulder," Roxas said (for apparently the sixth time that night) and rolled his eyes, and Riku figured that he probably agreed with the 'going home' sentiment, at least up until the point Sora paused with one finger in the air, turning the other way to examine the row of closed shops and the crosswalk somewhere behind them.  
  
"No, no, dude--"  Sora tilted his head back, a brilliant grin lighting up his face.  "I smell pizza!"  
  
And as Riku utterly failed to deny Sora anything even while sober, he certainly couldn't deny a freshly baked (for the first time) Sora who desired pizza with all his overstimulated taste buds and hunger reflexes--and this is how they ended up in a booth at the Flying Pie at nine PM on a Saturday.  
  
And this is how he and Roxas were really, truly civil to each other for the first time, brief as it was.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Okay," Sora said after discarding the crust of his first slice of pizza--and eating that had been a long and very intimate process involving appreciative moans as he experienced the previously familiar flavors in a new and sensory-dazzling way.  It was _incredible_ , the act of eating, and it made Riku look at him sideways with a strange expression like he might jump Sora right there in the booth and divest him of whatever remained of his various forms of virginity.  
  
In any case, pizza had no business being that outrageously delicious, and so when the piece was finished Sora set the crust aside and decided to wait a little while before he ate anything else, just to savor the experience.  He noted, at this point, that his one spoken word had captured the attention of his two table-mates, and remembered then what he'd been intending to say.  "Let's play a game!"  
  
Roxas chewed absently on a slice of something with pesto sauce and tomatoes and Sora thought he might try that one next.  "What kind of game?"  
  
"A 'get-to-know-you' game!"  
  
Riku bit at the end of his crust and Sora remembered that he was sitting next to him (which he'd forgotten almost as many times as he forgot the skates over his shoulder, but that was fine because remembering that Riku was there always made happiness jump around through his body like safety-pin crickets) and snuggled up to his side comfortably.  Riku obligingly patted his shoulder, apparenlty too nervous in the crowded restaurant to do much more than that.  "Why?"  
  
"So you and Roxas can be friends."  
  
Across the table, the boy in question paused.  "Friends?  Did I agree to this?"  
  
"It's easy!"  Sora launched into his idea before either of them had any time to argue, because they were going to play the game and this was going to work, dammit.  He _wanted_ them to be friends, because maybe if they were they could work out whatever misunderstanding had happened two years ago and get on with life.  Sora was on a noble venture.  "Its like word association, sort of.  We'll each take turns saying something like... 'favorite movie' or 'word that starts with S' or something.  And then we all answer."  
  
They both looked like they were going to argue for a moment, but then Roxas shrugged and grabbed another slice of pizza and Riku brushed his thumb over the back of Sora's hand and it felt _really_ nice, and Sora almost forgot what he was doing until he realized they were both going to humor him.  He grinned at them both and the spread of pizza on the table in equal measure.  "Awesome!  I'll start.  Um.  Favorite band!"  
  
"Nirvana," Roxas said instantly.  
  
"Surprise surprise," Riku muttered, but he shrugged apologetically when Roxas glared at him.  "It's just obvious.  Nine Inch Nails."  
  
"Surprise surprise," Roxas intoned and mimicked the shrug as well.  "Sora?"  
  
"Beastie Boys."  Sora looked from one to the other, and they still weren't being very friendly, but he figured there was time.  And lots of pizza.  "Um... Rox, you answered first, you go next."  
  
"Favorite color."  
  
"Blue," Riku answered after a moment.  
  
"Green," Roxas said in a strange echo that made Sora blink and wonder.  
  
He shrugged though, and said, "Red," so the game could continue.  This was pretty fun, and he could eat pizza _and_ hold hands with Riku while they were doing it!  Life was awesome.  
  
"First grade lunchbox," Riku said, and the teasing smirk lit up his face.  
  
"Ah!"  Sora wriggled in his seat.  "Masters of the Universe!"  
  
"Star Wars," Riku countered, and the smirk was still there, watching as Roxas slid down in his seat and scowled.  
  
"I pass," Roxas said, and bit down on a piece of crust vengefully.  
  
Riku's smirk broadened.  "You can't pass."  
  
"I can too."  
  
"Sora, can he pass?  This is your game."  
  
"Um."  Sora considered this and the way Roxas was glaring at the formica tabletop.  "Rox?  What is it?"  
  
Roxas muttered something garbled around the crust.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said _Care Bears_ ," Roxas spat and straightened abruptly.  "Happy now?"  
  
Riku sputtered and started laughing, and Sora thumped him on the shoulder because that wasn't fair.  "Hey!  The Care Bears were awesome!"  
  
Riku kept laughing.  Sora smacked him again and sighed, giving up.  "Okay, fine.  My turn.  Um--oh!  When d'you turn eighteen and what're you going to do?"  
  
Both of the other boys paused.  Riku turned to him after a moment and his fingers squeezed under the table.  "You go first."  
  
"Oh.  Uh, well you'll never believe this but my birthday is on Valentine's Day.  So... I dunno, I think I'll buy some lottery tickets and rent some porn."  
  
They blinked at him.  
  
"What?  I'm a healthy teenage boy, I like porn."  
  
"Don't laugh."  Riku grumbled and pushed his plate back, clearly finished with pizza.  "June 30th."  
  
Roxas offered his best evil grin.  "Aww, little Riku won't even be eighteen when he graduates!"  
  
"Shut up."  Riku leaned back in his seat and looked down at where his hand was clasped with Sora's, smirking just a little.  "I'm gonna get a tongue ring."  
  
Sora blinked.  "Uh.  Cool?"  
  
Riku continued to smirk.  Roxas chuckled.  "Dude, he doesn't get it."  
  
Sora blinked some more.  "Get what?"  
  
"Nothing."  Riku switched his attention across the table.  "It's your turn."  
  
Roxas pulled one knee up against his chest, considering the tabletop again.  "September tenth."  
  
Silence settled over the table for a moment, broken only by the sound of Sora chewing on his third slice of awesomely delicious pizza, up until the point where Sora stopped chewing and put together everything Roxas had just said.  At which point he set the pizza down in order to hold up one finger in shocked accusation.  "You're eighteen already!"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"It's not that big a deal."  Roxas shrugged.  "I mean, I had a party.  But otherwise being eighteen is pretty much the same as being not eighteen, only now if I fuck up big time it goes down permanent.  It was easier before, you know, when nothing you did really meant anything that would last.  Right?"  
  
Sora thought about what he said for a while, and subsequently forgot about their game, but that was okay.  The silence fell comfortably, and they were all pretty full, and Riku's side was really warm.  
  
  
  
  
  
If he thought about it, the next thing Sora really remembered clearly was standing in front of the dorm and Roxas looking him over critically (and rather tiredly, Sora thought) and saying, "We can't take him in like this."  
  
"Sora," Riku said seriously for a moment, hands on both of his shoulders and looking into his eyes.  Sora wanted to kiss him.  "Can you pretend to be asleep?"  
  
Sora figured he could probably do that, and so he nodded and a moment later Riku had swept him up in his arms, and proceeded to grunt.    
  
"Goddamn you're heavy."  
  
"Sorry," Sora murmured and snuggled into him, because Riku was still warm and he could totally pretend to be asleep on him.  
  
"Whatever, make this fast.  Go, Rox."  
  
He wasn't sure what happened, precisely, because his eyes were closed and he might have actually dozed off at some point, but Riku carried him inside and talked to the dorm mother for a few minutes, and at some point later they were upstairs and he was being lowered into his bed.  There were warm soft blankets under him and it was comfortable, and there was a warm Riku hovering over him and for a moment he figured that was okay.  So, he reached up and curled his fingers in the soft cloth covering Riku's shoulders and pulled him the rest of the way down.  
  
It felt really, _really_ good, kissing Riku.  It felt better than the pizza tasted and better than the jug of water; it made his body tingle all over and made heat pool in his stomach and he just wanted to feel him everywhere.  He tried to pull Riku onto the bed with him, tried to pull him down and feel all of his weight pressing him into the mattress but Riku didn't move, just hovered there and kissed him back for a minute, fingers brushing back his hair.  
  
"I can't stay," Riku murmured again, and Sora cursed dormitory rules and the facts of being a teenager in general.  
  
"Until I fall asleep," Sora murmured back and Riku sighed, relenting.  
  
It didn't take long, he thought--or would think later, when he was more capable of it.  Because he was already half-dozing and the drug in his system was dragging him under the fog he'd been hovering among all night, so it only took a moment for him to fall gently asleep with warmth against him and safety pins pressed under his hands, and the smell of bar soap and chlorine all around him.  Even when Riku left he dreamed of sleeping next to him, and when he woke up in a cloud the next morning that much made him feel better about life.


	16. Ode to My Family

**16:  Ode to My Family**  
  
It ended up being about three in the afternoon when Risa sent her reluctant son out to pick up his boyfriend.  Dinner wouldn't actually take place until five, but she wanted Sora to have time to see the house and meet everyone and grow comfortable among them before they all sat down together over the meal she'd been preparing since sometime in the wee hours of the morning.  She didn't do that often, and Riku--having endured enough garage and spider related torment for one weekend--decided not to comment and not to argue when she pointed to his car keys and told him to get going.  
  
It would result in Sora being in his company, if nothing else.  
  
And so it was that at about five after three on a Sunday afternoon, Riku knocked on Sora's door, and a moment later was greeted by Sora, in a manner of speaking.  
  
Riku thought this because _his_ Sora was a proper jock, and the Sora that opened the door had been inexplicably blindsided by the counterculture.  He was wearing carpenters that were just slightly too long, although they hung nicely on him, and a faded blue and white flannel that looked fantastically soft, and a hemp necklace (although to be fair that was Riku's and he was more than pleased to see it on him), and a well-distressed Weezer t-shirt underneath, which made Riku think paradoxically both of their first date and the previous night on the sidewalk.  
  
Interestingly enough, after he thought about it, it occurred to him that people like Roxas made the grunge look into something badass and subversive, but on Sora it transformed into something decidedly... cuddly.  Yes, cuddly was the word.  
  
"So," Riku observed after a moment of taking in Sora's new wardrobe, "you're letting Roxas dress you, now?"  
  
Sora looked down at himself with a chuckle.  "We went to the thrift store, and I thought I'd get something warm to wear."  He shrugged in the flannel a few times, arms out at his sides as though considering the weight of the fabric.  "What do you think?"  
  
"Hm."  Riku watched him pose and wondered if he did like it or not.  He figured he was going to have to explore this 'cuddly' theory to really be sure.  "Come here."  
  
Sora dropped his arms and stepped forward with a smile, and the way he melted into Riku's arms and into the slow kiss he stole was more than enough to make up for any shift in personal style.  And the flannel really was exquisitely soft under his hands, warm from Sora's body and he ran his fingers over it repeatedly, pleased with this, and extended the slow stolen kiss a bit longer.  Murmured appreciatively against Sora's lips and brushed his tongue against them--tasted like toothpaste, now; much better than last night.  
  
"I think I like it," Riku announced once he was done savoring that and nuzzled Sora's cheek playfully, arms still tight around him.  Sora squirmed just a little, laughing softly and he figured they could just stay like this for the day.  He could just lean here against the door with Sora in his arms and make him laugh and kiss him until the sun set and the RA's kicked him out.  And then, none of this would have to involve his family.  That was a definite positive.  "But I liked the old Sora, too."  
  
"He's still here."  Sora made this assurance with a smile, leaning to one side to tug the carpenters up enough that they didn't all but obscure his feet.  Just enough that the schwa was apparent on the side of his shoe.  "See?  Nikes."  
  
Riku almost blurted out 'I love you' for the second time that week but figured, at the last second, that he really ought to stop doing that before things became overly awkward.  So instead, he leaned his forehead against Sora's and they shared a private smile.  "I hope he never leaves."  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake," Roxas's voice interrupted over their heads alongside what sounded rather like a paperback book smacking against a pillow, "you can stop being sickeningly cute anytime, now, preferably before all my teeth fall out."  
  
Riku had a scathing retort all prepared, staring as he was with eyebrows lowered and mouth open at the top bunk where Roxas was bivouacked behind a stack of paperbacks and a jumbo-sized bag of twizzlers.  It had something to do with Roxas being a proper fucking girl up there with his romance novels and his candy but Riku made a mistake--or possibly saved himself, and cast a last look at Sora, who was still comfortable in his arms and smiling rather pointedly.  
  
Oh, right.  Truce.  
  
He opted, instead, to brush Sora's hair back and focus all his attention on the way his eyes caught the light.  "So how's your hangover?"  
  
The smile, when it came, was a bit sheepish.  "It's okay, I guess, I'm just kind of tired and fuzzy."  
  
"He'll be fine," Roxas muttered around a twizzler, and surprisingly enough there appeared to be a note of concern creeping into his voice.  "Just keep him up and moving, he'll feel better if he's not sitting around like a lump."  
  
"Duly noted."  He let go of Sora reluctantly, hands trailing down the sleeves of his soft, soft flannel before squeezing his hands and finally breaking contact entirely.  "You ready to go?"  
  
The frown that fell over Sora's face was destined to get him kissed again, but the way he looked down at himself made Riku nervous.  "I should put on something nicer."  
  
"No, you shouldn't."   
  
"But--"  
  
"You don't need to look like anything other than what you are," Riku said firmly and noted, from the corner of his eyes, the curious regard that Roxas gave that statement before disappearing behind his book.  
  
And as it is, his non-conscience added, we're going to have to pull over at least once for the sake of making out.  
  
Riku liked this idea, of course--he had a bad habit of agreeing with his non-conscience--but kept that to himself for the moment.  For now, he supposed he'd have to actually get Sora to his house, whether he really wanted to or not.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku's house was a long, low ranch trimmed in white and laid with fading red brick, a sprawling sweep of grass curled from the front around and into whatever backyard existed on one side, flower beds marked out with white wire wickets and a length of bushes separated the yard from the neighbors; in the spring they would be heavy and sweet with blooming lilacs.  The other side was occupied by the garage, and a long driveway cracked with dandelions and an ancient Charger sitting on cement blocks to one side.  Riku parked his car in the gravel just across the lawn from the front door, and lead Sora over without much ceremony.  An elderly Newfoundland was sleeping on the porch underneath a row of tittering windchimes, enormous paws crossed under its chin and when they ascended the steps it opened soulful brown eyes and regarded Sora with a long, searching look.  Riku petted its head and offered a gentle, "Good boy," as he passed, and Sora paused as well, offering a hand for the dog to snuffle at.  He apparently gained approval with a cold nose against his palm, and Riku opened the white front door before he could get a good look at the stained-glass motif in a half-circle across the top of it.  
  
The interior of the house, when he stepped inside, looked rather like neither the decor nor the furniture had been updated since sometime in the late seventies.  Some of the walls sported wood paneling; the carpet underfoot was thick and soft and rust-colored.  A folded basket of laundry--towels, mostly--sat unattended on a mohair couch and a small assembly of dolls were poised around an end table where presumably a tea party had been occurring at some point.  There were textbooks piled on the olive-green recliner and that was all Sora had time to take in before Riku was pushing the door closed behind him and waving kind of awkwardly in what should have been a 'make yourself at home' gesture but came off as more of a 'I'd much prefer we were anywhere else on the planet, but if we must be here then I guess try to get comfortable' gesture.  
  
Sora shrugged a bit in response, pulled the flannel off because it was kind of warm inside the house, pleasant but not stifling.  He draped it over the hook by the door and followed Riku further inside rather stiffly in his thrift store clothes; he was still uncertain, self-conscious--because how okay could Riku's family _really_ be about all this?  
  
The living room opened into the dining room, and there was a small family room somewhere beyond, Sora could see the TV, but Riku bore left and into the kitchen, plopped onto a stool and dropped his keys on the pumpkin-orange surface of the breakfast bar.  "We're back."  
  
Risa was at the stove, stirring something or other that smelled approximately wonderful; her mass of silver hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she had twice as many beads around her neck as the last time Sora saw her.  They clattered when she moved, hurried over and wrapped him unexpectedly in another crushing mom-hug before holding him at arms length, studying the neatness of his appearance, his posture, how the bruise over his nose was healing, and whatever else it was that mothers were constantly on the lookout for.  "I'm so glad you came!  Just make yourself at home, sweetheart.  Riku can introduce you to everyone and I'll be here making dinner if you need anything, okay?"  
  
He was still understandably baffled by the woman's behavior, but she smiled at him serenely and so he nodded and agreed and she returned to the stove with a rattle of beads and swish of fabric, and he retreated to hover near Riku.  Well, that was one family member down--  
  
"Are you Sora?"  
  
The voice came from behind him, and somewhere closer to the floor, and when he turned there was a rather small, skinny girl staring up at him with the same aqua-green eyes that Riku had, although her hair was a color more approaching blond and it was cut short to frame her face; she had skinny jeans and a Rainbow Brite t-shirt, and her head was cocked to the side curiously.  
  
"Yeah," Sora managed after a startled moment.  This one was the kid sister Riku had talked about--she couldn't be too difficult, right?  
  
She seemed pleased by this revelation, pink rosebud mouth pursed in the beginnings of a smile.  "Are you really Riku's boyfriend?"  
  
Sora coughed.  Riku spun on his stool abruptly, reached out with a foot to nudge the girl's hip and push her away.  "Take off, Haru."  
  
The girl yelped and squirmed away from Riku and his foot, one hand on the breakfast bar and she scowled darkly at her brother, then turned towards the kitchen with a toss of her head.  "Mo-om, Riku's repressing me."  
  
"Live in harmony, children," Risa sing-songed from the stove, stirring a pot in time to her own unheard music.  
  
The girl grinned triumphantly and Riku groaned, pushing off the stool and past them both, hand on Sora's shoulder.  "You want something to drink?"  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
Haru continued to stare at him, tapping her foot as Riku rounded the counter towards the fridge.  Finally she folded her arms and her impatience broke.  "Well?  Are you?"  
  
"Um."  Sora flailed for a moment, not sure how to handle this--fortunately Risa, in true mom fashion, sensed the imminent need of a child nearby and reassured him.  
  
"You may answer her questions, Sora.  Children are inquisitive creatures, their curiosity should be encouraged so their minds can grow freely."  
  
Riku had a strange mother.  Sora gave himself an inward shrug, the concepts on his mental couch mirrored it, and he returned his attention to the girl in front of him and her childish impatience.  "Yes."  
  
She noted his response with a narrowing of eyes.  "Have you kissed him on the mouth yet?"  
  
"Wh--"  
  
"My friend Nyssa says you're not really together with your boyfriend until you kiss him on the mouth."  
  
Sora considered the relative accuracy of this statement.  "Well, yeah.  I mean, I've kissed him."  
  
"Good."  Haru smiled brightly, clasping her hands behind her back.  "Then when you're done with school you have to get married."  
  
"Get... _married_?"  
  
"If you don't, Riku will be sad."  Haru said this with grim certainty, advancing on him with all the height and stature of an eight-year-old--which wasn't much, but the level of indignation she carried seemed to elevate her presence somewhat.  "I don't like it when he's sad."  
  
On some level, Sora figured, everything she was saying made sense with a staggering maturity that betrayed her age.  She didn't want her brother to get hurt, and she expressed as much with her own moderate understanding of the world and how relationships were supposed to work, and he didn't really have the heart to explain to her that boys couldn't marry other boys--legally, at least.  
  
On another level, though, she was kind of annoying, and Sora felt a rush of relief when Riku returned and pushed her stumbling away and she stalked back to the living room and presumably the tea-party-arranged dolls in a huff.  
  
Pepsi in hand, Riku pulled Sora through the rest of the house by the elbow, presumably per the thought that maybe if they kept moving no more family members would appear suddenly to embarrass and/or annoy him.  The family room was a small affair with a comfortably squishy gray couch, floor cushions and a rabbit-eared television set standing quiet sentinel over all.  Riku promptly plopped onto the floor in front of the TV stand and began fiddling with something on the bottom shelf.  
  
Sora cracked open his own can and sipped at it, watching from somewhere closer to the door and looking around the small, comfortable room--he rather liked this house, it wasn't messy, just unkempt enough to be lived in.  Riku leaned back after a moment and held out a small gray controller, eyebrows raising in question.  
  
"Mario Kart?"  
  
Sora grinned and scrambled to claim a floor cushion.  "Oh, _hell_ yes."  
  
Ten minutes later, it was becoming clear that they were pretty evenly matched.  
  
Riku elbowed him and took a final drink of his pop, thumb scrolling through the possible courses.  "You always play Yoshi."  
  
Sora made a face and countered, "You always play Toad."  
  
"Toad is the fastest.  Duh."  
  
"But Yoshi handles the best."  
  
"It's all a matter of skill."  Riku settled back in as the countdown started and the race was on.  
  
Sora scowled at the banana peel dropped in his path and his little go-kart skidded in a circle, leaving him in last place.  Riku was chuckling and zooming into first, and Sora came to a decision.  He picked up speed and hit a star panel, earning a turtleshell that took out the people just ahead of him, gaining on Riku finally just as they were rounding a bend.  Sora waited until the road ahead was straight and sure, then moved in for the kill.  
  
He kept one thumb on the button to accelerate and leaned over, quickly so Riku wouldn't have time to shove him out of the way, and planted a slow, soft kiss on his lips.  
  
Sora kept one eye open to watch the screen and make sure he wasn't veering off the road and otherwise focused all his attention on destroying Riku's focus.  It worked within seconds, Riku made a low noise in his throat and leaned into the kiss, game forgotten, and his sprite swerved dangerously on the screen and crashed into a siderail.  
  
Chuckling against Riku's lips, Sora zoomed past him.  
  
Riku blinked and jerked away, attention suddenly back on the screen as he realized what had just happened.  He snatched up his controller and righted his sprite to make chase.  "You _cheater_."  
  
Sora laughed and made for the finish line.  
  
  
  
  
  
Through the sliding glass door that sat to one side of the family room was the backyard, which was quiet and fenced and slightly overgrown, and sported both a trampoline and an aging aluminum swingset.  Riku led him through it on a kind of tour, and they continued from there, notably avoiding the garage at all costs and somehow, ultimately--having returned inside via the utility room, and by then Sora was fully turned around--ended up at Riku's bedroom.  
  
And just as ultimately the sound of his mother's voice drifted, dainty but fully clear, down the hall, "Leave your door open, Riku."  
  
"That woman is psychic."  Riku grumbled it, but dutifully left the door standing open, waving one hand at the interior of the room in presentation before dropping down into a chair.  "Here it is, anyway."  
  
It wasn't exactly as Sora pictured it, but close--double bed in one corner, striped sheets and an aging blue comforter, partially made but clearly slept in.  The folding chair Riku was sitting in and the folding table accompanying it that appeared to double as both desk and workspace; Riku's backpack was underneath it, his chemistry and math texts stacked on top and there was a box of hemp spools and beads set in one corner.  A sturdy old dresser held a combination turntable and tape deck atop it, although there were no records in sight but piles and piles of cassettes were stacked alongside it, only half of them store-bought and the rest bore handwritten pen-scribbles on white factory labels.  At the foot of the bed was a classic plywood-and-cinderblock bookshelf, stuffed with paperbacks, and a plastic bin with a few precious game cartridges sat on the top shelf.  
  
The posters, Sora decided, were pretty much what he expected but he paused to stare at one for a moment, pinned to the closet door and framed by it.  Fuzzy picture of a flying saucer and white block text proclaiming "I WANT TO BELIEVE" across the bottom.  Huh.  
  
"I like it," Sora murmured after a moment, wandering aimlessly around the center of the little room for a moment before plopping down at the foot of the bed to examine the bookshelf thoroughly.  After a few minutes of this, especially noting the row of Star Trek novelizations, he chuckled in honest amusement--largely to avoid anything overly teasing, because Riku was a fairly sensitive boy.  "I didn't realize you were such a sci-fi geek."  
  
Riku gave him a sideways look and stood up, pushing the door mostly closed for just long enough to see the poster of the Enterprise on the back of it.  Sora snorted and started laughing again, reaching out to pull a book off the shelf, turning it over a few times.  "Man, I've got Roxas on one side reading dime-store romances and you on the other reading dime-store sci-fi.  You'd think you two would get along better."  
  
" _This_ ," Riku hissed, retrieving the copy of _I, Robot_ from Sora's hands, "is not dime-store.  It's a fucking classic."  
  
Sora grinned up at him and his offended posturing, carefully replacing the book on the shelf.  "You're a closet nerd."  
  
"Correction."  Riku smirked and landed on the bed next to him with a slight bounce and jostle, " _your boyfriend_ is a closet nerd."  
  
"Your bed is really springy."  
  
"You should get used to it."  
  
Riku's smirk was that teasing one, knowing and so very suggestive and his eyes glittered with interest, and Sora found the abrupt desire to kiss him--preferably a lot.  He darted a glance over at the door, which Riku (by accident or design) had left mostly closed to display the poster on the back, just a bare crack revealing the darker light of the hallway.  His attention returned to Riku with another grin, and he shifted forward just enough to bump noses with him, one hand curling around Riku's shoulder, and tilted his head to--  
  
"Riku!  Would you go tell your father that dinner's almost ready?"  
  
It really was amazing, how well that woman's voice carried.  Riku's smirk was still solidly in place despite the interruption.  "Told you she was psychic."  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku called it the 'office', but upon investigation it appeared to be more of an explosion of sorts, piles of paper and boxes and clamshells and inches-thick manuals piled everywhere in something approaching a haphazard kind of organization on a massive U-shaped desk that took up most of the room.  He couldn't see its occupant for the first minute, view blocked as it was by both Riku and a large ergonomic desk chair, but after a moment and Riku muttering, "Dad, what the hell are you doing?" he spied a lanky body crawling up from the floor.  He was tall, disheveled, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and messy dishwater-blond hair tied in a tail and he grinned triumphantly at them both when he stood, pushing a thick pair of glasses up with a knuckle under one lens.  
  
"It should be connected now," Riku's dad proclaimed with the same air as his grin and ushered them both inside, dropping to sit in the chair and rolling forward to face the monstrous computer resting atop the desk's center, assuring they were both watching intently on either side as the machine whirred to life.  Rubbing his hands together gleefully in a way that reminded Sora sharply of a mad scientist.  
  
"Dad."  Riku's voice had a note of impatience and long-suffering.  "This is Sora."  
  
The man's head lifted abruptly to study him, as though he'd just realized he was there and wasn't a member of the family.  "Oh, of course.  It's a pleasure."  His hand shot out and grabbed Sora's in a firm shake, and Riku's dad smiled in approval, presumably of Sora and his son's taste.  "Have you been out long?"  
  
"Dad."  
  
"You may address me formally as _Mister Roboto_ , or, if you're feeling generous, Steve Jobs will do just fine."  
  
" _Dad_."  
  
"Frank," he intoned, releasing Sora's hand finally.  "Though I find it rather boring."  
  
"Dad, your program's running."  
  
The man's attention returned to the computer suddenly, and after clicking the mouse a few times and typing a bit he made a flourish over the keyboard with one hand, sitting back in his chair and beaming with pride at the spinning hourglass on the screen.  "Behold, the future!"  
  
Riku bent over the computer tower and tilted his head at the odd grinding and chiming noises it was making.  "The future sounds like a fax machine."  
  
"Patience."  Frank folded his arms and sat in silence, waiting for the window to load--which it did, eventually.  Slowly.  
  
"What's a yahoo?"  Sora asked finally.  
  
"This, is called a _search engine_."  Frank indicated a box with a cursor with his mouse pointer.  "You use it to find pages on the Internet and _that_ , Riku," he added with a pointed look at his son, "is the future.  The World Wide Web.  Enter a term in this field, and the engine will find every page available that is devoted to said term.  For example--"  
  
"Hockey!"  Sora piped up instantly.  
  
"Star Trek," Riku said at nearly the same time.  
  
"Well, I was going to suggest pornography, but if the two of you prefer--"  
  
"Wait, wait," Riku waved one hand in a cutting motion to bring his father's words to a halt, "there's _porn_ on the internet?"  
  
"Of course!"  Frank made this announcement with the same triumphant tone and gesture as he'd presented the window to begin with before promptly closing it down.  "That is why god created parental controls, and I believe it's time for dinner now."  
  
"Wait--"  
  
But Riku's dad was already on his feet, one hand on either of their shoulders and ushering them out of the room in pretty much the same manner as he'd ushered them in.  "Now, now, we can't keep your mother waiting."  
  
  
  
  
  
Dinner was primarily a spread of chicken and dumplings, a mysterious grain salad made with something he couldn't pronounce that Risa positively beamed over and really didn't taste bad, once he mustered the guts to try it--steamed vegetables, canned peaches and mugs of hot chocolate made from scratch over the stove the way that no one did anymore.  Sora held it under his nose and drank it slowly in between courses to savor the subtle variations in flavor effected by the change in temperature.  
  
Mao arrived sometime after Risa had grilled him on every topic of life-related small-talk she could identify and halfway through Frank's explanation of what a microprocessor was and how it worked that was leaping straight over Sora's head in a single bound.  
  
He announced, abruptly while shrugging out of his coat and staring down at the table's extra occupant with a grin that reminded Sora of Roxas against the dorm room door with crepe paper in his hair--"It's the meatball!"  
  
Sora blinked.  "What?"  
  
"The direct cause of Riku's failure to eat his spaghetti and instead compose poetry to random food products.  It's--OW!"  
  
"Violence is not the answer, Riku."  
  
"No," Riku replied facing the table again demurely, "but it makes me feel better."  
  
Mao, strangely enough, looked almost exactly like Riku--only taller, with shorter, neater hair and his face was lined with grins both evil and otherwise.  He kept a practiced exchange of dry jokes with his father throughout the meal and at some point the Newfoundland appeared in the dining room, padding across it silently to lie down and resume sleeping next to Mao's chair.  
  
When the meal was over, though, and only Mao--who had arrived late--was finishing up his plate and everyone else aside from Sora and Riku were clearing the table, he returned his attention to Sora and studied him for a long moment with what was probably the closest thing to a serious expression he had.  
  
"Rik, go help Mom."  
  
Riku scowled.  "I'm not leaving you alone with him."  
  
"How else am I supposed to threaten his life if he breaks your heart?  I'm just looking out for you, baby bro."  
  
"It's okay."  Sora reached over and found Riku's hand, squeezing it gently and offering him a smile--because Riku's family really was okay with this, and if Mao wanted to talk to him alone then he'd probably survive the encounter.  
  
Riku licked his lips, paused like he might argue further, then sighed and returned the squeeze before scooting back from the table and collecting his plate and silverware.  Sora watched him until he disappeared into the kitchen before looking back over at Mao.  
  
The guy was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth slack and fork still halfway in the process of lifting a broccoli to his mouth.  He remained frozen like that for a few seconds, then chuckled and smiled brightly.  "Actually, I don't think I need to say anything after all."  
  
  
  
  
  
They volunteered to do the dishes, and Sora suspected it had to do with how totally the kitchen was vacated once someone was nominated to do the cleaning.  And it was rather pleasant, standing there with his hands in the hot rinsewater and Riku's shoulder bumping against his, staring out the window to the darkening side yard and the dormant lilacs while Riku picked at something stuck to a plate with his fingernail.  
  
He thought the word for it might be 'domestic'.  
  
"I'm sorry about this," Riku murmured, settling the plate into the rinsewater.  
  
Sora shrugged.  "I don't mind, there's not that many dishes."  
  
"No, I mean I'm sorry my mom dragged you over here."  Riku swirled the rag around the inside of a mug for a silent moment before passing it over and continuing.  "My family--they're all kind of crazy."  
  
"I dunno, they're kind of fun."  Sora shook off the rinsed mug and found a spot for it on the drain rack, fitting it in carefully before turning his attention to Riku.  He was blinking at Sora with a measure of patent disbelief in his expression.  "Seriously.  I mean, they all seem happy.  They all care about you, and they're all okay with--yanno, _us_.  Compared to a lot of families in the world, yours is pretty damn awesome, Riku."  
  
Riku didn't say anything in response, really--just continued with the dishes, but when Sora looked to the side he saw something like a smile flitting around his face.  He wondered what that smile was for--because Sora liked his family?  Because his family liked Sora?  Because he really did know how lucky he was?  
  
Maybe all of the above.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku really was a lucky bastard.  He knew this, and even realized it from time to time, but nothing in the world proved it undeniably like the fact that Sora was right here next to him, in his home, having met his family and shared dinner with them and presumably that proved that not only did their relationship exist, not only was it real, but it was apparently something that might continue in the long-term.  The idea of time and development made his heart do a little tapdance against his ribcage and things started to form in his mind, images of the possible future.  They'd sneak into prom together and scandalize everyone slow-dancing in the middle of the floor.  They'd go to the community college and he'd meet Sora for coffee between classes.  They'd get a little apartment somewhere in town--this town or any other, didn't matter--with soft light through the curtains and a frantic mixture of both of their belongings throughout it, and he'd wake up every morning with Sora in his arms.  
  
(God, you are such a fucking girl,) his not-conscience informed him.  
  
He drained the sink and rinsed it out without comment, accepted the dish towel from Sora and dried his hands off thoughtfully, still lost in his little fantasy of the future.  And that was probably how Sora caught him, hands on the counter on either side of his hips and less than an inch of space between them both.  Sora's eyes and face wonderfully close to his.  "What's up?"  
  
Riku set the towel aside, slid his hands over Sora's hips and pulled him closer so Sora was leaning against him, and--wait, what was that noise?  He turned his head abruptly, peering past Sora and searching the other end of the kitchen, where it opened to the entrance to the family room.  "Just thinking," he replied absently, and Sora made a noise of irritation.  
  
"Riku," he said, and paused until his attention was back.  "Thinking?"  
  
He smiled and leaned their foreheads together.  "About you."  
  
Sora's smile was a little embarrassed but wholly pleased.  "Oh?"  
  
Riku felt the kiss coming, saw it in Sora's eyes first and then the tilt of his head, but--that _noise_.  He jerked his head around again, scanning the area around the breakfast bar this time.  Something was up here...  
  
"Riku--"  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
" _Riku_."  
  
"What?"  
  
And when he turned back Sora kissed him instantly to silence any further protest or concerns about strange noises.  And instantly Riku forgot about all that, anyway, because Sora's mouth was soft and he was close and warm and it was a little different, this time.  There was no hesitation, there was a _certainty_ in the way Sora was kissing him, maybe a kind of devotion, and when his mouth fell open and Sora's tongue slid inside, against his, Riku felt his knees turn to water and curled his fingers in the shoulders of Sora's shirt to keep himself upright.  
  
It was agonizing, how slow the kiss was.  It made him giddy like all the blood in his body had suddenly rushed to his head and was spinning around like a centrifuge there.  Sora's hands were against the small of his back, petting there soothingly and _god_ , his mouth was so soft--  
  
FLASH.  
  
They jerked apart in time with the whir and stutter of a Polaroid camera--specifically, the one Haru was sitting on the breakfast bar holding in one hand, and the other pulled the slip of photo paper free when the little machine came to a halt.  "Gross, Riku," she declared with all her eight-year-old indignation.  "You had your tongue in his mouth!"  
  
"Oh, you little--"  
  
"Run, Haru!"  Mao yelled from the family room, waving frantically, and Riku zeroed in on him instantly.  
  
He carefully moved Sora to one side, out of harm's way, and patted his shoulders apologetically.  "Excuse me, I have to go defend your honor now."  
  
Sora made a noise of defeat, and Riku sprinted across the room to tackle his bastard of an older brother.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometime during the ninth circuit or so that Mao and Riku had spent chasing each other around the house, Sora was still in the kitchen and Risa had arrived to keep him company, pouring him the last of the hot chocolate like a shared secret between just the two of them.  
  
"Children are so spirited," she commented dreamily as the two scrambled past the breakfast bar and through into the living room yet again, Haru skipping along after them with the camera still in her hands, flashing pictures from time to time.  Risa didn't seem to mind too much so long as they stayed off the furniture.  "Here, Haru passed this off to me.  You'd better keep it somewhere safe."  
  
Sora accepted the photograph, the one that started this mess, but he didn't think Riku remembered or cared anymore why he wanted to beat his brother into submission; it was some kind of sibling thing.  It was kind of a nice shot, actually; the warm light in the kitchen lit them both nicely and he didn't realize just how close they had been.  How tightly Riku was holding him and how deeply lost in the kiss they both were, in that moment, arms around each other and pressed together like that.  
  
"You look good together," Risa said, smiling softly, and there was so much more behind that simple phrase that wasn't being said, all her love and worry and hopes for her son.  
  
"Yeah."  Sora nodded, pushed the picture into his pocket and raised the mug of chocolate to his nose.


	17. Been Caught Stealing

**17:  Been Caught Stealing**  
  
"What are you wearing?"  
  
"Perv."  
  
"Oh come on, Rox.  Humor me."  
  
"What am I usually wearing?"  
  
The earpiece of the cell phone gave an indignant huff.  "You're no fun."  
  
"Axel, if I was calling for phone sex we'd be having it by now."  Roxas shifted his arm behind his head and regarded the ceiling with a half-smile nonetheless and considered it anyway--but Sora was probably going to be back soon, and _that_ would be all levels of awkward.  "Who's the hormonal teenager here, anyway?"  
  
"I'm still a teenager.  And I haven't seen you in a week now."  
  
"Well, yeah but--how often do you expect me to come over?"  
  
"Daily."  
  
"Oh, whatever."  Roxas pushed himself up and shifted over to lean back against the wall, the tips of his hair brushing against the ceiling.  Slouched and kicked his feet in the air where they stuck out past the edge of the bed, childishly.  "I'm not hiking all the way to your campus every day unless I get to sleep there, and we've already established that that's not an option."  
  
"And I keep telling you to just take your ID to the housing office and clear all of this up.  They lift the ban, we stop having to sneak around and life can continue more pleasantly.  And with significantly more conjugal visits."  
  
"I don't want anyone else finding out."  Roxas thought his voice came out sharper than he really wanted and his feet stilled.  He stared at the toes of his All-Stars (the green ones, today) and considered the moment of silence over the line.  The way his stomach clenched.  
  
"Yeah, I know."  Axel's voice was quiet and subdued, contrast to the half-joking tone he normally adopted or the serious, low purr he reserved specifically for Roxas.  It made that clenching sensation in his stomach ache a bit.  There was another moment of silence, and then Axel murmured, "I miss you."  
  
For some reason he felt really cold, all of a sudden.  Roxas rolled back onto his side, pulling his blankets around his shoulders and snuggled down into them.  "I miss you, too."  His voice was kind of muffled, and so was the sound of the doorknob jiggling--he didn't remember leaving it locked but maybe Sora had turned it on the way out.  "My roommate's home."  
  
Axel's voice returned to normal with a soft laugh.  "I'll let you get back to wooing your latest boycrush, then."  
  
Roxas made a frustrated huff into his blankets.  "Axel--"  
  
"You know I'm just fucking with you."  
  
"I know."  
  
Axel was quiet on the other end of the line for a moment; Roxas imagined tilting his attention towards the ceiling, lounging back in his desk chair.  "This week is Thanksgiving."  
  
"Yeah, I'll come visit during vacation."  
  
He could hear Axel smiling over the line, visualized the way his eyes crinkled and his teeth flashed.  "Promise?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Later."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Roxas punched the button to end the call just as Sora tripped into the room, still arguing with the door and its temperamental locking mechanism.  Once his keys were retrieved he turned to face Roxas, beaming in the way he tended to after having been in Riku's presence for any length of time--and he did look just a bit disheveled, like maybe they'd gotten distracted on the way home and made a pit stop for some long, slow kissing.  Roxas immediately attributed any envy of that to the fact that the phone was still open in his hand.  
  
"Hey," Sora chirped--yes, _chirped_ , he was clearly in far too good a mood for a Sunday night--and crossed the room in three quick strides to climb up onto the side of his bed and fold his arms over Roxas's mattress.  "Talking to Axel?"  
  
Roxas flipped the phone closed and pushed down the antenna, slipping it under his pillow all in one deft movement.  "What makes you think that?"  
  
"You're glowing again."  
  
"I am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
Roxas offered him a scowl to bring this argument to an end.  "I can still see that hickey, you know."  
  
"Just cause you know it's there," Sora scoffed, dropping back to the floor.  "Anyway, that's not the point.  We--"  
  
But whatever point Sora thought he was going to make was rudely interrupted by the phone ringing.  Sora sighed and deflated and grumbled a little, and Roxas thought he heard the word 'Kairi' in there somewhere, but he crossed the floor to answer the phone dutifully nonetheless.  
  
"Hello?"  Sora paused for a long minute and then his eyes darted up to find Roxas, sitting up in bed now with the blankets still clutched around himself.  "Roxas?"  
  
The boy in question blinked a few times and kept his voice at a low hush.  "Someone's calling for me?"  
  
Sora held up one finger for a moment, then turned the handset so the mouthpiece was muffled against his neck.  "It's a girl," he whispered in a hiss.  
  
Roxas mouthed back, "Olette?"  
  
Sora shook his head, eyes wide now and questioning just how Roxas wanted to handle this.  
  
"I'm not here!"  
  
Sora turned back to the phone, mouth open to speak and then paused again, staring into middle-space blankly while the phone buzzed in his ear.  Finally, after an interminable number of seconds during which Roxas pulled the blankets further and further over his head, Sora looked up at him, cleared his throat, and said, "She says she knows you're pretending not to be here, and that you're a meanfaced dunghead and the garden gnomes are going to eat your toes off in your sleep."  
  
Roxas froze in place for one long moment while this processed through his brain (paralyzed, understandably, with the possibility of being stalked now by a female admirer on top of everything)--and having done this, he instantly threw himself off of the top bunk and scrambled across the floor to snatch the phone from Sora's hands.  
  
"Nami?"  
  
"You jerk."  
  
Roxas let out a long, slow breath and dropped against the wall with a short knock of his forehead against the white textured surface.  "How was I supposed to know it was you?  How'd you get this number, anyway?"  
  
"It's in the housing records.  Olette called me."  There was a waver in her voice that sounded like a combination of nerves and a smile.  "Mom won't recognize the number when she checks my cell."  
  
"You're brilliant."  
  
"I do try."  
  
Roxas turned a few times, noted Sora still standing in front of his desk and staring as though he expected the phone to sprout claws and fangs at any moment, and he finally shrugged and dropped to the floor where he stood, scooting back to lean against the wardrobes.  "So how's it going with her, anyway?"  
  
"Same as usual, I guess.  She has this counselor coming to see us both."  Naminé always spoke like that, in a matter-of-fact kind of way with a soft lilt that made it feel more bearable.  "She says its to help us cope with the distress caused by having a homosexual in the family."  
  
Roxas groaned.  
  
"Her words, not mine."  She was quiet for a minute, shift of fabric as she changed positions on whatever expensive piece of furniture she was inhabiting in their mother's penthouse.  "I wish Dad hadn't told her."  
  
"He told her because he knew I'd have to deal with her and her drama."  Because his mother loved crises--thrived on them, ate them up, any opportunity to break down or have to call in a shrink or a specialist and bemoan her bad fortune to whomever would listen.  She'd always been like that; he suspected that was why she divorced his father.  "It's fine, I don't really care anymore."  
  
"Well, if it makes you feel better, it's driving her crazy that I'm not freaked out over all this."  She laughed softly and it tickled in his ears and made him think about pillow fights.  Like the last one they had, just before their mom packed her up in a limo and left.  
  
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his demeanor shifted to something more playful, because all this serious shit was getting tiring.  "Well, that's not surprising; you always were a strange kid."  
  
"Rox!"  
  
"Didn't I tell you last Christmas?  You were adopted."  
  
It was a funny sound, her trying to laugh and sound offended at the same time.  "You _jerk_."  
  
"Aliens left you on our doorstep."  Roxas grinned at the receiver and waited for the inevitable comeback.  
  
"Yeah, well," Naminé sniffed, voice back under control, "better an alleged child of aliens than a confirmed child of nuts."  
  
  
  
  
  
Once the potential telephone mishap was apparently resolved, Sora dropped into his desk chair and just... _stared_.  Because Roxas was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the wardrobes and his head tilted back to look at the ceiling and talking on the phone _to a girl_ \--and he looked _happy_.  Not Axel-happy, that was on a completely different level and involved Roxas blushing and glowing and generally being flustered.  No, this was more of a normal kind of happy, complete with smiles and little jokes and normal what've-you-been-up-to and how's-school-going chatter.  
  
"No, Dad told me to call her," Roxas was saying and picking idly at a string on the knee of his cargos, something coming loose from a pocket.  "Not yet."  Another pause, another pick.  "Yes I'm going to, just... later."  
  
It was at this point that it occurred to Sora just who the girl on the other end of the line might be.  
  
So, once Roxas had climbed back to his feet and said his goodbyes and replaced the phone in its cradle, surprisingly free of any cord entanglements--but then, he didn't have the pacing habits that Sora did--he pounced.  
  
"So," Sora said with all the ire he could muster, folding his arms and blocking Roxas's path, "who's Nami?"  
  
He rather anticipated the eyeroll Roxas offered in return.  " _Naminé_ ," he corrected, "if you must know, is my kid sister.  Could you move now?"  
  
"What's with the stealth calling?  Why didn't she call your cell?  Or just stop by if she knows where you're staying?"  
  
"Because she lives in Seattle with my mom, who is currently kind of flaking out and won't let her talk to me."  Roxas's face had fallen into a warning scowl, reminding Sora that although he'd been more than willing to offer up whatever explanations Sora wanted the night before when they were both fantastically baked, they were currently sober and he was not feeling anywhere near as accommodating.  "Are we done yet?"  
  
Sora stood his ground, this time.  "Why?"  
  
"WHY DO YOU THINK?"  Roxas tossed his arms out to both sides in emphasis, let them drop back to his sides with a dull smack when his hands hit his legs.  "Are we fucking done, Sora?"  
  
"Yeah, but we'd never have started if you would actually _tell me things_ once in a while."  Sora shuffled to the side, dropped back to sit in his chair.  "I told you about Cali, it's only fair."  
  
"Whatever."  Roxas tumbled back up into his bunk and stayed where he landed for a long moment, waiting for some of the tension to drain out of the air.  Sora leaned back in his chair and considered the lack of homework he had to do, and the fact that he was nothing approaching tired yet, even after shopping at the thrift store and spending the better part of the afternoon and evening at Riku's house.  
  
"Hey," Roxas said after a minute, emerging from his bed slightly ruffled.  "Weren't you all jazzed about something when you came in?"  
  
Sora blinked, took a moment to pull the memory up and then jumped to his feet as it struck him.  "Yes!"  He climbed back up to perch at the edge of the top bunk, assuming the same position he had earlier to make his declaration.  "We need a Super Nintendo."  
  
Roxas blinked.  "Really."  
  
"And Mario Kart."  Sora formed one hand into a determined fist.  "There must be a way to accomplish this."  
  
"Well," Roxas said slowly, drawing the word out like he was considering all its letters and phonetic aspects.  "I have a Super Nintendo."  
  
"You _have_ one?!"  Sora almost toppled to the floor and clutched the bedsheets tightly to prevent this, mouth wide open and staring at his errant roommate in shock and disdain.  "See, you never tell me anything!"  
  
"You never asked."  
  
"But," Sora amended, regaining his balance and considering this further, "we'll need a TV to play it on."  
  
"I have a TV."  
  
"Roxas!"  Sora gave up and jumped back to the floor, flailing his arms in total disbelief of what he was hearing.  "Why didn't you bring them with you when you moved in?  I mean, really, then you wouldn't have to hide behind the ficus to watch 90210, for one.  And for another, we'd have a _Super Nintendo_."  
  
"I had all of ten minutes to pack, Sora, and I had to be able to carry everything.  Priorities had to be made."  Roxas nodded sagely, noting both the boombox and the skateboard stowed by the door.  "There's no way I could haul a TV all the way here on my own."  
  
Sora considered this for a long moment, one hand rubbing his chin.  "Could you... go back for it, maybe?"  
  
Roxas mirrored his expression for another moment, and then his face split into a slow, mischievous smile.  "That's possible."  
  
"Sweet!"  
  
He lifted one arm to check the face of his watch and the smile turned to a smirk.  "Right now would be perfect, in fact."  
  
"Wh--"  Sora started, and paused.  "Right _now_?"  
  
"Yup."  Roxas rolled off the bunk, landing on the balls of his feet and tugging his flannel straight.  
  
"But--"  
  
"This was your idea, Sora."  
  
He deflated abruptly, hand on his forehead and sighed.  "Crap, it was."  
  
  
  
  
  
He wasn't entirely sure how far they walked--it was already dark when they left, and the trip itself took at least half an hour on foot.  Roxas told him not to bother with his skates, as they'd only end up being in the way.  He himself still had his board tucked under his arm, whether because it would come in handy or because Roxas couldn't bear to leave it behind, Sora couldn't tell.  
  
The street they ended up on was dark and silent and free of traffic, broken by intermittent streetlights that left pools of gold on the ground, and the sidewalk was lined with either thick and neatly trimmed shrubs or iron grates or high, imposing stone walls.  Every driveway had a similar gate shut across it, and Sora wondered idly why rich people were so keen on keeping other people away from them.  
  
Roxas finally turned in to one of these driveways, hurrying to the side of the gate and punching at the little keypad there in almost a bored fashion, tapping his foot while the metal bars parted slowly to either side.  He looked across his shoulder at Sora then, irritated expression abruptly melting into a wicked grin and he gestured to the steadily widening entrance.  "Welcome to my house."  
  
The driveway wound upwards at a gentle slope, lined on either side by soft lantern-shaped lights along the ground and at its apex was a two-story Goliath of a house, rows of windows dark or dimly lit like Christmas lights on the dark grounds.  Sora spent the majority of the walk gaping at it, only noticing he had veered dangerously to the side when Roxas grabbed his elbow and corrected his pace.  
  
"Is there someone to let us in?"  He asked at length, after Roxas had given up and steered him the remainder of the way to the house by one elbow.  
  
"Nope."  Roxas made this declaration roughly ten feet from the massive front doors, white pillars and steps leading up to polished wood and brass handles and Sora could barely imagine himself passing through them let alone anyone actually living behind them.  But they stopped at that point, made a sharp left and were trudging through grass and around the side.  
  
"But there are lights on," Sora observed by staring upward at the perfect white siding and almost tripped over a flowerbed.  
  
"They're just on to make it look like someone's here.  It's the maid's night off and Dad's never home on Sunday."  Roxas grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him around yet another corner into the spacious back yard, rows of hedges fencing off a perfectly manicured garden.  Roxas ignored it; Sora gaped.  
  
Sora stopped gaping when Roxas grabbed him by the collar and hauled him backwards to a whitewashed veranda, and he figured the other boy was probably getting really annoyed by it.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Roxas had flipped open another keypad, this one tucked into the corner of a french-door entrance; through the cut glass he could make out a polished cherrywood dining table big enough to seat twelve.  He shrugged, punching in some numbers and waiting for the device to make a series of beeps.  "Just deactivating the alarms."  
  
"Deaciva--WHAT?"  Sora paused with both feet planted on the wood deck, shivering in the night air.  "Just what the hell are we doing?"  
  
Roxas regarded him with a kind of firm disbelief for a long moment, one hand raking through his bangs before he nodded to one side, hand gesturing along the wall to a trail of green and white running up the side of the house.  "See that trellis?"  
  
"Uh... yeah?"  
  
"It's served me well over the years."  
  
Sora blinked.  "We're going to climb it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You brought me here," Sora said very slowly and carefully to be absolutely certain that what was happening here was really happening, "so we could break into your house."  
  
"Technically, as it's my house, I can't really break into it.  I live here."  
  
"No, you don't!"  Sora made this assertion with an indignant wave of his arms, gesturing wildly at the house and the alarm control panel and Roxas and pretty much everything surrounding them.  "If you did, you'd have _keys_ and we'd go in by the front door!"  
  
Roxas gave this a long moment of consideration before shrugging under his flannel and stuffing his hands into his pockets.  "You have no sense of adventure."  
  
Sora knew he was being goaded--he knew it, but that didn't stop him from doing exactly what Roxas wanted.  Specifically, stalking across the veranda and down the steps, trudging through the grass and picking carefully into the flowerbeds (the gardener had apparently spaced the area under the trellis out a bit, presumably due to his flowers being crushed by the teenager sneaking in and out).  He paused there at the bottom, regarding the white netting of wood and the vines inhabiting it; took a cross-section of it and tugged to test its sturdiness.  
  
"It'll hold," Roxas assured him.  "I'll go first, I know the trick to getting the window open."  
  
He shimmied up the trellis to the second floor with, Sora reflected, the ease of one who had been doing so for years.  Obviously.  He didn't know what the 'trick' was and couldn't see it clearly from the ground, in the dark, but presumably whatever it was had worked because a moment later he was crawling onto the open sill and waving down for Sora to follow.  
  
Five minutes later Sora was thoroughly impressed with the speed and agility Roxas had utilized in climbing the trellis, and cursed him in the same breath as doing so was not as easy as advertised.  He clung to a vine with one hand and a crossbar of wood with the other and was more than certain that any second his unsure footing was going to give way and leave his broken body in the flowerbed below.  He took this opportunity to glare at the window Roxas was leaning out of, rolling his eyes and holding out a hand for assistance.  "Just scoot to the side.  It's not that much of a jump."  
  
"I'm not jumping."  
  
"You clearly don't climb trees anywhere near enough, Sora."  
  
No, he didn't.  He preferred keeping his feet on the ground, or on wheels on the ground, because that way if his body were ever to _meet_ said ground it would be from a relatively low height, possibly at fast speeds but ripped skin was not on the same level as broken bones.  "I'm not jumping."  
  
"Fine."  Roxas grumbled, leaned back from the window before reappearing with one leg, straddling the sill so his hand could reach Sora, other hand grasping the interior wall for support.  "Come on."  
  
This, Sora thought, was the epitome of awkward.  He relocated the hand holding the vine to clasp with Roxas's, moved the other to take a crossbar closer to the window, shifted his feet nervously because the sad wooden excuses for footholds were so narrow he was essentially on tiptoes.  He was almost perfectly level with the window, feet roughly a foot below the sill and it really wasn't that far away, couple feet, but he sure as hell wasn't going to jump and when Roxas tugged his hand to encourage movement he tugged back just to throw him off balance and give him a momentary taste of the fear that Sora was currently existing in.  
  
"That's not funny,"  Roxas said when he righted himself.  
  
"No," Sora agreed.  "It isn't."  
  
It involved, first of all, one foot moving over to the sill, then Sora's hand moving to grab the edge of the trellis.  Roxas kept a firm grip on him, grabbed Sora's other hand when it flailed as he shifted his weight over to the foot on the sill, and when Sora started tumbling they both had the good sense to throw themselves towards the _inside_ of the open window.  
  
And that is how the two of them landed in a tangle and with garbled shouts of "OUCH!" and "FUCK!" and a loud THUMP on the plush carpet floor.  
  
"You know," Sora said after a moment from somewhere under Roxas's knee, "you suck at breaking and entering."  
  
"Like you're any better," Roxas scoffed in response, and after another awkward moment of being collapsed in a heap they untangled themselves and crawled to their feet.  
  
Roxas's room was dark but there was just enough light through the open window to make out the shapes of things.  Double bed to one side, large dresser beside it.  On the other side of the room was a media rack where presumably the boombox had sat at one point, still with some CD's and extra speakers on the shelves.  There was a desk, messy with paper and the floor was strewn with discarded clothes and various other things, a few books in the mix and more was pouring out of the open closet.  In one corner was a large TV stand, and this is where Roxas was crouched, a bag open at his feet and feeling around the shelves in the lack of light.  
  
"Your room is huge," Sora observed from where he stood, not sure suddenly where to put himself.  
  
Roxas made a noise of derision and straightened abruptly with the rattle of a cord being pulled up along a wall.  "Here."  
  
Sora picked his way across the room to Roxas's side and found himself, without ceremony, buckling under the weight of an armload of television.  The thing was massive and dusty and holding it with the screen against his chest he could only just see over the top.  Roxas settled it in his arms with a pat.  "You take this, I'll get the system packed."  
  
Sora grunted in response, because that was really all he could get out.  
  
A few minutes passed while he stood there, TV in hand and muscles straining, listening to the rustle of items being shoved into canvas, the rattle of electric cords and Roxas's steady breathing.  A few minutes, and sometime after that was the exact moment that the overhead light switched on.  
  
That exact moment stretched for an eternity as far as Sora was concerned, and that eternity involved the thoughts that not only was he standing in the middle of a room in a house (mansion, more like) that wasn't his, that he had essentially broken into, although no breaking was necessarily involved, thank god--but had entered in a manner that was basically illegal.  In the dark, at night.  Not only that, but he was holding a rather large and possibly expensive television set.  
  
So, naturally, he froze--although that didn't result in his position changing at all aside from his eyes widening over the top of the TV.  He considered throwing his hands in the air in surrender, but that would have dropped the TV on his feet, which would result in both a broken television and broken toes, so he opted to not.  
  
The voice that came from the doorway, though, failed in any way to be loud or accusatory; it did not scream, or threaten to call the cops.  It merely sighed, and then asked with a kind of exhaustion, "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
Sora had his mouth open and poised to say, 'Nothing, sir, absolutely nothing and if you'll excuse me I will happily remove myself from your incredibly large and expensive home and be on my way.'  However, just as some kind of sound began to leave his mouth Roxas shot to his feet with the canvas bag clutched tightly in one hand and glared past Sora to the doorway.  
  
"What the hell are _you_ doing?  You're never home on Sunday."  His voice came out in a tense grumble that made Sora frown (although no one could see it behind the television), "I'm just getting some of my stuff."  
  
Sora turned just enough to see the man in the doorway; older guy, due for a midlife crisis probably, blond hair turning slowly salt-and-pepper from the temples back, dress shirt still primly buttoned although the tie was slightly loose.  He stared into the room with a kind of disdain, mixed with exhaustion, not really angry so much as mildly irritated.  He had the same color eyes that Roxas did, Sora noticed; the same ice-blue, just as cold.  
  
"And you came in through the window because...?"  
  
Roxas stared at him for a long minute and it was like they were having a contest to see who could freeze the other with a look.  Sora would have laughed if it wouldn't have been highly inappropriate, especially standing there like a burglar making off with a television.  
  
He finally muttered something low under his breath, bending down to grab a few cartridges off the floor.  It sounded like, "No one has a fucking sense of adventure anymore."  
  
The man (Roxas's dad, clearly) turned his attention on Sora for the first time, observing him and the TV in his arms and the way it hid most of him.  "I don't remember this one."  
  
"This is Sora," Roxas said with a kind of forced propriety.  "He's my roommate."  
  
"Sora," the man echoed, and that was like a question.  There was too much of an upward tilt at the edge of the name, too much suggestion.  
  
"Dad."  The word exploded out of Roxas's mouth but it wasn't an exclamation, really.  He was moving now, pacing one step from side to side for a minute with a hand in his hair and a scowl mixed with a grin mixed with a world of frustration on his face.  "Is that it?  You think I'm a slut or something?"  
  
"I didn't say that.  It was just a question."  The man shrugged, and it really did sound apologetic.  
  
"He's my friend."  Roxas made the emphasis with an abrupt halt, and Sora nodded his head vigorously behind the TV.  
  
There were a few minutes afterward that no one said anything.  Roxas's dad stood in the doorway with his arms folded, watching the activity inside.  Roxas threw some more things into his bag that he figured he needed before zipping it closed and slinging it over his shoulder.  Sora stood in place and held the television, and his arms were starting to ache.  He wondered how Roxas planned to get the dumb thing home, anyway.  
  
As though echoing his thoughts, the man settled his attention on Sora again and his eyebrows rose, looking over the appliance and the boy behind it.  "So... how exactly did you plan to get that thing out the window and to the ground without destroying it, anyway?"  
  
Sora paused, which didn't require any halting of movement so that was pretty much negligible, and his mouth dropped open, but that was hidden behind the TV so that didn't count for anything, either.  At his side, though, Roxas straightened, looked at the television, and frowned.  
  
In the doorway, the man started to laugh.  
  
It wasn't a mean, teasing kind of laugh at their expense, or a fake guffaw, barking sound to express derision at this lack of planning.  No, the man leaned back against the doorframe, put one hand against his forehead and chuckled, at first, then it built and built until his other arm was around his stomach and he was bent over, eyes streaming, laughing like he'd never heard a funnier joke in his life.  
  
Roxas's scowl was more like a pout.  "We could've lowered it with a rope."  
  
Sora blinked.  "Did you bring a rope?"  
  
"No, but--that's not the point.  We would've figured something out."  
  
In the doorway, his father wiped his eyes and drew a long breath, mouth still split by a wide, amused smile.  His eyes crinkled up the same way Roxas's did when he was happy.  "Come on.  I'll drive you back to the dormitory."  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxas didn't sit in the front seat, because to do that was like inviting conversation.  So he sat in the back instead, television in the middle between himself and Sora and Sora's arm was draped across it protectively, like it was somehow his prize; his compensation for being put through all that, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.  
  
"So, you're the roommate," his father intoned when they were paused at a light, and he reflected that the guy was going to make small talk no matter what, but at least Roxas didn't have to sit beside him.  
  
"Yeah," Sora murmured in response, casting a look sideways as though asking Roxas for permission to speak.  
  
"I've found over the years that the best way to get him to stop snoring is to throw a pillow at him."  The man's hands shifted on the wheel as he changed lanes, thumb flipping the turn signal.  "He doesn't even wake up, just rolls over and usually that'll stop it."  
  
Roxas groaned at the same time Sora piped up with a smile and a 'Thanks!' and Roxas wished he had just not been home on Sunday like he was supposed to not be.  
  
He could have jumped out of the car the moment the dorm came into view, and the size and shape of it had never looked quite as beautiful, but when the car came to a halt the man immediately turned to rest his elbow against the seat back, regarding Roxas seriously for a long moment, during which Roxas discovered that he had the goddamn child lock engaged.  "Did you call your mother?"  
  
He set his teeth behind his lips, internalized the growl that wanted to pass through and sighed instead.  "I'm going to."  
  
"That was our deal, Roxas."  
  
"I know, I know--I'll call her on Thanksgiving or something.  Can you let us out now?"  
  
For a minute, Roxas thought he really wouldn't--figured the guy would make him pull out his cell phone right then and there and call her up and listen to every damn word he said.  But then the doors unlocked with a synchronous pop and he shoved his open, and his father only caught him one last time because he turned back around to make sure Sora had a good grip on the television he was hauling out.  
  
"The next time you need something," the man said, still in that position with one hand on the back of the passenger seat, "you can just call, you know."  
  
Sora stifled a grunt on the other side of the car and Roxas was going to have to get the door for him, help get the monster appliance up the stairs.  He was thinking about that, really, and that was why he left so quickly.  
  
He said, "Yeah," and decided to leave it at that.


	18. Can't Even Tell

**18:  Can't Even Tell**

  
  
Sora had a new routine.  
  
Crawl out of bed at 6:25 and stumble blindly to the bathroom, preferably without crashing into Roxas and whatever he was cementing his hair in place with. Fill the sink with ice-cold tap water and stick his head in it until his brain woke up. Wash face. Brush teeth. Finger-comb his hair because he'd given up on such useless appliances as combs and brushes years ago.  Ignore Roxas bitching about him flicking water at him.

Clothes. Backpack. Stumble around the floor to find wherever his pager had landed the night before (atop Roxas's pile of laundry today, somehow).  Skates.

He took the banister down the dormitory stairs some mornings, but once in a while Roxas would grudgingly let him piggyback--because climbing down in rollerblades took too long. The dorm mother had long since given up on yelling at them and whatever wheeled contraptions they were scuffing her foyer floors with and just wished them good morning as they passed.

They grabbed whatever portable breakfast happened to be waiting by the door and split it while rolling steadily down the sidewalk to the main building, one of them propelling them forward while the other held on by a sleeve or a collar or a backpack strap and focused on food.

Upon arrival, they assumed stealth mode.

The girl-entity could conceivably be lurking down any hallway, but their favorite place to capture and interrogate Sora was right at the entrance hall--so the first order of business was to carefully peek through the windows in the front doors and scan the area for possible threats.  On this particular morning, the hall within was mysteriously vacant.

This was, of course, suspicious, and so they proceeded with the utmost caution.

Locker.  Skates off, sneakers on.  Jacket on the hook.  Books out of his backpack and then others back in (and there were still bits of confetti clinging here and there).  Roxas would lounge against the locker next to his and wait, tapping an unknown beat against the metal with his fingertips until he was finished.  Sora, then, would hurry over to Riku's locker, because the day never quite got started until a pair of sea-green eyes turned to him and Riku smiled just a little, just for a moment.

And once that portion of the routine was accomplished, Roxas would leave his side, skateboard under his arm to visit his own locker and then go off and do whatever it was Roxas did during the school day--whether or not that included attending class was up for debate.  On this particular day, though, Riku was not at his locker.  This made Sora frown, which in turn made Roxas frown and probably consider all kinds of words that could be spray-painted over the surface of the locker in retribution for causing Sora's frowning.

As they continued down the hall, however, it became clear that Riku was otherwise occupied, largely by the mass of sparkles and pink pinning him to an ASB poster.

Sora couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he absorbed the squealing and the annoyed and exhausted expression on Riku's face as he tried to explain something to the mad females.  They clearly were not listening to him and proceeded to coo over something.  Riku shook his head, rubbed one hand through his bangs and then, in a moment of distraction, he looked over and saw Sora and Roxas standing there watching.

His eyes widened instantly, and he mouthed the word 'RUN!' in all capitals.  With the exclamation point.

Being smart boys with fairly good senses of self-preservation, Sora and Roxas both instantly spun on their heels to do just that.  However, the girl-entity had many minions, and some were capable of operating independently from the core unit--and, it would seem, this resourcefulness would spell the end for the two boys attempting their escape.  For when they spun around to run back the way they came and possibly hide in a bathroom for the remainder of the school year, the entity's illustrious leader was standing in their path, arms crossed and effecting a pout through her glittery lip gloss.  "Oh, you're not going to just leave, are you?"

Sora swallowed rather thickly and offered what he figured was his cutest smile, raising both hands in supplication.  "Um--no, no!  We just... forgot something.  For class.  It's important."

At his side Roxas nodded mutely in agreement.

The leader took a step forward and they both unanimously stepped back in response, and her pout rose in strength.  "Oh, can't it wait?  We have _so_ many things we want to ask you!"  Her hands clasped primly against her chest and her eyes widened.  "Please?"

"It is-- _really_ important," Sora emphasized this with a wave of his raised hands that was something like a flail, and he caught Roxas by the sleeve for support as they were backed up yet another step.  "In fact, we should go.  Now."

"But you were all gone for two whole days!  Almost three!"  The leader now appeared as though she might burst into tears at any moment, and that was just a low tactic.  No boy on the planet wanted to be responsible for making a girl cry, whatever the reason.

So, of course, they both balked.  Only for an instant, but that was enough.

The girls swarmed.  Sora wasn't entirely sure what happened, most of what he could see was flashes of pink and most of what he heard were giggles and cooing and Roxas's very unmanly squeak, and then he was shoulder to shoulder between him and Riku, the latter of which sighed in resignation and leaned over his shoulder to whisper, "I told you to run."

"I tried!"

Roxas didn't say anything at all, just scowled and clutched his skateboard protectively and pretended to not be cowering.

"Good morning, Sora!"  the entity sang.

"Good morning," he sighed in reply.

The girls turned as one to Roxas and just as sweetly (possibly more so) sang, "Good morning, Roxas!"

"Oh no," Sora groaned.

Roxas cowered further, while attempting to look like he wasn't.

"Oh, it's so awesome!  We get to talk to all of them together!"  One of the younger ones chortled.

"Because we totally agreed to this," Riku muttered under his breath.

The entity either ignored him or failed to hear.  "We heard all about the fight in the bathroom!"

"Poor boys, look, you're still all bruised!"

"But it's so sweet how you all defended each other!"

The entity gave a collective "Aww!" and began chattering animatedly amongst itself, and Sora took a moment to idly wonder just why they were here when the girls weren't even demanding embarrassing questions from him.  While they were distracted, though, Riku's hand slipped into his and gave a squeeze.

"Hey," Riku murmured in his ear again, close enough that no one else would hear but not so close that the closeness would attract the girls' attention.  "I'm going to move to the left.  Just shuffle along with me slowly, they won't even notice."  His gaze darted past and around Sora to the boy on his other side, still scowling and saying nothing.  "Better bring him, too."

Sora barely had time to nod before the girls returned their attention to him.  "You know, Sora, everyone says you're the one who did the most damage."

"I heard someone had to go to the hospital, even!"

Riku began moving slightly to the side, and very, very slowly, Sora moved along with him.  He caught Roxas by the elbow to assure he wasn't lost somewhere within the mob of pink.  He'd never forgive Sora if that happened.

"We never would've guessed you were so tough, Sora!"

"Although you _are_ on the hockey team..."

"But you know what _that_ means, right?"

The girls waited expectantly, staring him down and unconsciously they were all moving to the side along with the boys against the wall.  Inch by grueling inch.  Sora wondered what the hell they were talking about and if he even wanted to know, but after a moment of them staring him down he finally swallowed and asked, "What?"

The girls laughed and shrieked in unison, "YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY BE A TOP!"

In response to this, three separate things happened at roughly the same time:

1.  Riku paused just long enough to snicker quietly (and knowingly) and squeeze Sora's hand again.

2.  Roxas cackled like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

3.  Sora frowned and decided the best thing to do would be not to address that further, as it was really unnecessary.

"But there's something you really have to tell us," the leader declared, moving to the front of the group and smiling devilishly sweet at the three boys, and the next shift sideways brought Sora's arm in sharp contact with a doorknob.  He bit back a reflexive 'OUCH' and smiled back with equal doses of sugar, although his contained an extra helping of nerves.

"What?"

The girls collectively leaned in close as the leader lowered her voice.  "Is it true?"

Riku squeezed his hand again and then his touch started moving up Sora's arm--and he thought, for a moment, that this really wasn't the time nor place for that sort of thing, until Riku's hand paused to curl around the doorknob.  He got a sense, then, clutching slightly tighter to Roxas's elbow to get his attention, of what Riku intended to do.

Sora affected an innocent face.  "Is what true?"

"The whole story!"  One of the lower-ranked girls piped in out of turn, but although the leader glared over her shoulder slightly the others were nodding in encouragement.  "You know, how you went to meet Roxas in the bathroom and he chased everyone else out so he could confess his love for you!"

"We're sure it must've been sooooo heartfelt."

"Mm, after reading all those romance novels, he should know _exactly_ what to say."

At Sora's side, Roxas was gradually stiffening into something like carved marble.  "Wh... what?"

The entity turned their attention to the blond with a collective sigh, hands folding over their hearts in a flurry of fingers.  "Poor Roxas, Sora's heart belongs to Riku and despite anything he could say, Sora couldn't return his feelings."

"Awwww!"

"But even with his heart broken and all his hopes dashed and the jealousy he must feel for Riku, when the bullies broke in looking for them, Roxas defended them _both_ out of love!"  The entity gave a collective sigh, all their eyes wide and doe-like and keenly admiring Roxas.

The hallway was deathly silent for a long, contemplative moment, and then as the implications of the story fully sank into the heads of all three boys, action resumed with an abrupt jerk.

"... _What?_ "  Sora and Roxas blurted at the same time.

Riku interrupted their combined moment of total disbelief with a sharp, shouted, "NOW!" and yanked the door open.

The girls screeched.

Sora took that instant to act and dove inside, still with a firm grip on Roxas and dragging him along behind.

Riku spun around to follow them and slammed the door closed behind him, leaving the girls outside to bang on the wood and plead and whine for them to come back out.

The three leaned back against the door's solid surface, thanking it in various ways for protecting them from the sparkles and pink, and heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Roxas was the first to sputter, finally, and grind out, "Okay, what the _fuck_?"

"Don't ask me."  Riku busied himself straightening his shirt and hair, casting a look over Sora to make sure he was unharmed.  "The femme-Borg only just caught me when you two came along.  I told you to run."

"We _tried_ ," Sora insisted for a second time.  "That's not the point!  Why do they think that?"

"Because they're insane," Roxas informed him seriously.  "All women are insane."

Sora blinked at him.

"Except for Olette," he revised immediately.  "And Nami."

"My god," Riku murmured in something like mock reverence from behind Sora.  "I think for once I might actually agree with you."

"Excuse me."

That last came from none of the three of them, and Sora turned to take in his surroundings for the first time.  The room they were in was somewhat larger than a janitor's closet but far too small to be a classroom; the walls were painted a cheery yellow with small cartoonish murals in places and a comedy/tragedy motif with ribbons over a lit dressing room mirror; there were racks and racks of bright clothing in the back and shelves of wigs to the side, and a bench sat there just beside the door with the words 'Riku's Hiding Spot' painted in flowery text on the wall above it.

In the center of the room, however, was the owner of the voice who wished to be excused; this being a boy, probably a senior, blond in that I've-been-using-too-much-Sunshine way and frowning slightly at the intrusion.  He was standing with his arms stretched to either side and there was something very... _lavender_ draped over him, which was being pinned in place in some indiscernible design by a small girl in a yellow babydoll and leggings, standing to his side and slightly behind him with pins in her mouth, eyes huge and round and darting between each of them in turn.

Roxas, having taken all of this in at the same rate as Sora, reacted with a barely controlled cringe.  "Oh, god.  It's the drama club."

"Oh look, it's the school's most infamous love triangle," the boy countered with a wave of one hand that managed to look like a grand sweeping gesture despite the stiff way his arms were held out to the sides.  "Who'd of thunk."

Riku groaned and shrugged off his backpack, stalking to the side to drop down into his assigned seating.  "You're not serious."

"The rumor mill's been churning at triple speed ever since the three of you got hauled out to the principal's office.  I'm pretty sure most everyone thinks it's bullshit--Femme-Borg aside--but you can't really tell sometimes."  The boy shrugged stiffly and wiggled the arm the girl was still holding in place to pin in an attempt to shake her out of the frozen stare she'd adopted.  "Yo.  Selph."

She brightened instantly but instead of resuming her pinning attentions she dropped the boy's arm and hurried over to Sora, pulling the pins out of her mouth with one hand and grabbing his to shake with the other.  Her smile probably required an entire hydroelectric dam to power it.  "It's so nice to finally meet you!  I'm Selphie, and this," she waved at the boy and his indignant waving of lavender fabric, "is Tidus."

He nodded in acknowledgment and carefully shook her hand in return.  "I'm Sora."

"I know."

"The other one is Roxas," Tidus intoned behind her and jiggled his arms impatiently.  "Which we all know, and now we all know each other, and this costume isn't going to sew itself."

The girl rolled her eyes upwards and shared a private grin with him before bouncing back to the stool and the fabric and resuming her pinning.  Sora watched them for a moment, Tidus twisting to the side in an awkward pose to squabble with her about the shoulder seam, then he looked over to where Riku was sprawled on the bench in that familiar way.  The sort of sprawl one adapted when one was used to a particular seat and knew exactly what position was the most comfortable.

Of course, the painted sign over his head was rather a good indication.

Sora stepped away from the door slightly, relaxing a bit into the room (Roxas, meanwhile, was still pressed back against the door and clutching his skateboard and scowling at nothing).  "So," he murmured when Riku looked up at him, "are these your friends?"

"Something like that," Riku said after a moment, shifting a bit on the bench--and Sora figured that nervous uncertainty looked rather cute on him.

"Don't listen to him," Tidus said conspiratorially, leaning slightly on his stool to address Sora.  All that lavender kind of discredited his serious tone, though.  "We're his inner circle.  He tells us everything.  For example, back when he was in the darkest depths of his crush phase, I totally encouraged him to just suck it up and ask you out--"

Riku snorted.  "Liar."

"History is more intriguing when colored with misconceptions.  Artists _know_ this, Riku."  Tidus tilted his head back and regarded the boy on the bench with a lofty expression.  "You'd make a terrible actor."

"I wouldn't know; you change your mind about that every time I see you."

"Actually," Selphie murmured underneath their banter, pulling a pin out of her mouth to finish off a sleeve, "Riku just comes here to hide from the girls.  But he's in pretty good company around here, if you know what I mean."

Sora recalled a conversation with Roxas sometime weeks ago, about the drama club stereotype being all too true--and regarded Tidus and his aloof argument with Riku in a new light.  This really was some kind of safe-haven, then.  How long had Riku been coming here, then?  Long enough that someone had decided to paint a sign over his seat, at the very least.

"I don't know if anyone cares," a voice from the doorway growled over every conversation being carried in the small room, and Roxas was still standing there clutching his skateboard and looking dour, "but those girls are still out there."  He reached back with one hand to rap his knuckles against the door, and muffled squealing could be heard in response.

"The femme-Borg," Tidus announced with a sweep of the arm that Selphie had finished with (the girl was crouched now and working on a side seam), "are here seeking a nugget of truth to support the rumor they themselves created.  Everyone wants to know why it is that all three of you joined forces on one side of the brawl--Riku and Sora make sense, of course, but Roxas is an anomaly.  Your adoring public wants to know."

"Like I give a fuck," Riku muttered.

Sora blinked.  "I have a public?"

"Sora."  Roxas waved him over with his free hand, gaze turned to one side until he was sufficiently close, enough to speak without being overheard by much--the room really was unfortunately small.  When he did look up, his eyes were serious and more than a little unnerved--he was reminded sharply of Roxas in the parking lot with a hackey-sack, taking him by the shoulders and imploring him to _never tell anyone, ever_.

"You have to talk to them."  His voice was muted and tight.  "They listen to you.  You have to get them to stop this."

Sora ran his tongue over his lips, pursed them together in concern.  "It's a joke, Rox.  No one's gonna take them seriously."

"How do you know?"  Roxas was speaking in a hiss now, teeth clenched tight behind his mouth and the intensity of this, his insistence, was almost frightening.  "Tell them what really happened and that I'm not--"  He stopped abruptly, restarted.  "Just... _please_."

Sora felt himself scowling without really intending to, felt his eyes narrowing.  Roxas wasn't looking at him anymore.  "You want me to lie for you?"

"Sora--"

"What the fuck are you so afraid of?"

His voice was too loud--he could tell by the way the room was deathly silent when the words came to an end.  This wasn't how Roxas was supposed to be--disenchanted, maybe; contrary, yes; inherently rebellious, yes.  But this one thing reduced him from everything advanced and mature down to a sniveling kid hiding his 'baby' toys in a closet so no one would make fun of him.

Sora left him there in his juvenile moment, folded up against the wall, head down, eyes fixed on a spot of carpet and skateboard clutched defensively against his stomach.  He turned, grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open, stepping out into the surrounding mob of pink and closing it securely behind him.

"Sora!"  The entity cheered, hands clapping together in unanimous delight.

"Ladies," he sighed, then straightened and looked them over, settling finally on addressing their leader and her sparkly eyeshadow.  "It's not true."

The entity deflated as one, with a collective "Aww" of disappointment.

"Roxas is my best friend."  Sora iterated this statement firmly, speaking slowly to assure that they were all understanding him and had no way of misconstruing this.  "That's why he fought with us."

The entity considered this, then one of them bubbled up with a happy giggle.  "So he supports you!  That's soooooo sweet!"

Several others nodded and cooed in approval.

One girl, though, sighed in disappointment--he thought it might have been the same one who started the whole story earlier, and perhaps the same one who made the initial suggestion a week ago that Roxas was somehow romantically entangled with him and/or Riku.  "So he's not in love with you?"

"No," Sora said, and did his level best to keep his tone of voice even and honest, but he'd never been good at lying.  He didn't quite look any of them in the eye when he said it, either--  "Roxas is straight."

After some oohing and ahhing the girls dispersed--he didn't quite remember when or if the morning bell rang, figured it was best to just assume he was tardy, and turned to re-enter the drama club's costume closet, or whatever it was.  Roxas was standing just where he'd left him, Riku was still sprawled on his bench, leaned back and staring at the ceiling, and Selphie was methodically pinning Tidus into lavender fabric, the latter pulling faces from time to time.

"They're gone," he announced, not looking at anyone in particular.  "We should probably get to class."

"On the contrary," Tidus intoned--and he sounded almost honestly affronted, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed demurely.  "I don't think Roxas will be leaving the closet anytime soon."

Roxas hissed something that sounded like cussing but he didn't clarify, just jerked away from the wall and stalked to the open door, muttered something like 'thanks' when he brushed past Sora's shoulder.

"Denial doesn't look good on you, man," Tidus called after him.

Sora waited for Riku to recollect his backpack before turning out the door--Selphie assured them they were welcome back anytime, and once in the hallway Roxas was nowhere to be seen.  Neither, for that matter, were any other students.  They were _so_ late.  Together, even.  The chemistry class was going to talk.

They were halfway up the senior hall when Riku finally opened his mouth and murmured, "Is he really...?"

"Doesn't matter."  Sora bit off the words and then smiled apologetically, because Riku hadn't started this, anyway.  But he'd promised not to tell, though he was starting to wonder if that was really the right thing to do.

On his mental couch, Fake and Ownership exchanged looks and wondered, too.

 

 

Everything seemed to have died down by lunch--he guessed, but Sora couldn't really read the student body all that well.  He guessed, largely, based on the abatement of whispering and staring.  The tension around this entire scenario of him and Riku seemed to have lowered significantly in strength, and that was one thing Sora was well-versed in sensing.  There would not be another fight, not anytime soon.

"You know," Riku said after the quiet length of time it took to eat their shared lunch, another new part of the routine that Sora was enjoying greatly, particularly as it included leaning against Riku's shoulder and staring up at the sky while he thumbed through a book or tied hemp or let the ladybugs crawl over his palms, like he was doing now.  "I think Dan would have protected Jimbo whether he knew the whole story or not."

Sora let that sink in, and if it took a while for him to respond it was because he was trying to figure out what the heck Riku was talking about, unfortunately, and not because he was creating a dramatic pause or picking out the most intelligent words to use in response.  After a moment, though, he remembered their conversation the day before the fight and the implications he'd left hanging.

So what he said was, "You think so?"

"Yeah."

He thought then that he'd probably tell Riku the whole story.  And while he thought this he spotted Roxas stalking across the courtyard, skateboard in one hand and a wrapped hoagie in the other, glaring at the world at large until he arrived underneath Riku's little tree, and without permission or preamble he lowered the board to the ground and dropped to sit on it, and proceeded to sit there and eat lunch with them in silence.

Sora really had nothing to say to him at the moment; he was still pissed off and uncertain and he hated lying, when it came right down to it, whether Roxas was his best friend or not.  But for now, he decided that this would be a nice addition to the routine.

 

 

The part where routine broke was, of course, after school.

Riku disappeared into the gym for swim team practice and Roxas disappeared into the library for detention, which appeared to be his own personal form of extracurricular activity as Sora was never entirely sure what he was going to detention for or if he'd even done anything to deserve it.  It was entirely possible that he just showed up and the attendant assumed he was supposed to be there.

Sora, left to his own devices, spent several minutes in the school parking lot staring longingly at the hockey courts where a few figures in red and black were just starting to drill.  He stared, and he sighed, and started walking home.

The days were getting steadily colder and almost all the leaves were gone from the trees and littering the ground with brown and orange; Sora almost matched it, trudging through a pile that spilled onto the sidewalk, in his cargos and a brown sweater, more warm clothing courtesy of the thrift store.  He was thinking about hockey and how he could feel the center bead on his hemp necklace when he swallowed and whether he'd have to take it off while he was playing.

Being thus distracted, when he looked up from his toes to see the splotch of red and black sitting in the dormitory's parking lot, he stopped in his tracks and blinked.

It was hard to tell how old the guy was with the fire-engine-red starburst of hair on his head, but he was sitting on a parking block with elbows on his knees, smoking a half-spent cigarette and scanning the area around him with a kind of lazy determination.  Everything he wore was black and it was all a bit too faded to have any kind of striking effect, straight-leg jeans and combats and a Megadeth t-shirt combined with a silver wallet chain and--were those tattoos under his eyes?  Were they _real_?

When he started walking again he unwittingly attracted the guy's attention, and he did his best to ignore it, walking straight and staring straight ahead and totally not noticing how the guy's eyes were really, _really_ green--like Emerald City we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore technicolor green.  And there was a _spiked collar_ around his neck and Sora started walking faster, intent on passing the guy and hurrying inside and informing the dorm mother that there was a strange metalhead sitting in the parking lot and smoking and staring at people for no reason.

He was intent on this, so much so that just when he was about to pass the guy and make a clean escape the words, "You're Sora, right?" made him jump and freeze in place yet again.

The guy was quashing out his cigarette butt before standing up, shrugging back into a black jean jacket that was just as un-striking as the rest of his clothing in wake of that unnaturally red hair (and unnaturally green eyes, come to think of it.  Seriously, are those tattoos real?) and looked Sora over, flash of his gaze and impatient for a response.

Sora straightened on his feet, shifting his weight just a bit, more out of habit than anything.  "Yeah."

And with that single word the guy's entire demeanor changed.  He smiled, and it made him look both young and handsome at the same time, and he slung an arm around Sora's shoulders like they'd been best friends for years.  "Awesome.  Let's go."

"Woah, hold on!"  Sora dug his heels into the sidewalk to stop the guy from propelling him along, away from the dorm and the school and towards downtown.  "Go _where_?"  He was willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, and he was perfectly capable of defending himself, of course, but possibilities were popping up in his head at and alarming rate.  And most importantly--  "Who the hell _are_ you?"

The guy stopped abruptly and retreated, both with the arm and the smile, and scowled at the air somewhere to one side.  "He didn't tell you."  He said it almost like a question but not really, and he sighed immediately afterward without expecting an answer.  The scowl broke, he didn't smile but his features lightened enough that the sense of youth returned, and he stuck out a hand.  "Axel.  And yes, I _will_ deck you if you ask me to sing _Paradise City_."

... _Oh_.

Although he had the presence of mind to shake Axel's hand, Sora spent most of the next minute just... _staring_.  He didn't really know what to expect as far as Axel went, as he really didn't know anything about the guy from what little Roxas had told him, but whatever level of expectation may have built up in his mind was crashing and burning as he stood there, shaking hands with the reality.

Whatever he had expected, this wasn't it.

"I can't picture you two together," he thought morosely in the general direction of Roxas and his detention hall, and he didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Axel's expression shifted yet again and his eyebrows rose.

"Oh, he _did_ tell you.  How about that?"  Axel shifted on his feet and his frown matched the sarcasm dripping from his voice and Sora couldn't quite keep up with this mood.  He reached for the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then looked over at Sora thoughtfully and put them away.  "Okay, look, I came out here to take you to dinner because fuck knows Roxas is never going to introduce us.  So, we'll call this _initiative_.  You coming?"

Sora considered this, and considered the way Axel's mood was lightening slightly again, and at that point he figured out why--he was _hurt_ , that Roxas hadn't even talked about him enough that Sora could recognize him.  He figured that was understandable and wondered just what this guy had heard about _him_ , why he'd decided to take the initiative to come here and meet him.

So he took a breath, squared his shoulders and jerked a thumb backwards at the dorm.  "Mind if I drop off my backpack and skates first?"

 

 

The parts of town they passed through reminded him of skating through the same area on Saturday with Roxas, although in this instance he was all but running to keep up with Axel's rapid long-legged pace, hands shoved in his pockets unless he pulled them out to point and gesture at something for Sora's benefit, never slowing down or stopping to do so.

Axel was a talker.  For almost every door and storefront they passed he had some kind of story or opinion; the guy who ran the hardware store was a dick, used to chase the kids off his sidewalk so they all congregated there just to irritate him.  His friends used to skate in that parking lot until the city had the park under the overpass built.  Someone he knew used to work at that ice cream shop and gave him freebies all the time until he got fired for slacking off.  A plethora of little tales, mythology to color the area with youth and nostalgia and latent delinquency.

When he finally stopped, Sora almost tripped over his own feet from the immediacy and without further explanation, Axel pulled open a glass door and gestured for him to enter.  "Hope you like Chinese."

The restaurant was a tiny hole-in-the-wall complete with paper lanterns and outdated decor and Sora would not have even known in was there if Axel hadn't led him right inside.  The guy ignored the sign imploring him to wait to be seated and steered them both straight into the dining room and plopped down in a booth against the far wall, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling the ashtray towards himself as he settled in.  The place was almost empty, but he'd chosen this specific booth for whatever reason.

"So," Axel said finally, lighter in one hand and cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke.  "Tell me about yourself, Sora."

"I..." Sora started, paused while the lighter flicked on and lit the tip of the cigarette orange.  "I play hockey."

"Yeah?"  Axel's interest lit immediately, elbows on the table.  "Ice, field, street?"

"Street."

"Nice.  Is Rox taking you skating on the weekends?"

"He did on Saturday."  Sora shifted in the booth until there wasn't a lump in the cushions right under him, and considered this and what he remembered of the conversation that occurred that night.  Smiled a little at the tabletop, and he could see the streaks from where it had been wiped down.  "I think he was hoping you'd come by."

"Ah, damn."  Axel flicked his cigarette against the lip of the ashtray and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.  "He knows I work on Saturdays."

"Yeah, he said something about that."

Axel seemed to forget that he'd asked Sora to talk about himself, because he launched into a long explanation involving his job and what had happened on Saturday.  Sora listened to most of it--or appeared to be, anyhow.  Mostly he was watching Axel, the way he moved and how when he described something in detail he would sit back and lift his hands to gesture in aid of this description, using his cigarette as either a pointing device or some kind of strange decoration that left smoke hovering around in whorls over the table.  Mostly, he was trying to imagine _Roxas_ and Axel.  Roxas, who was so closed-mouthed about everything, with this guy who'd probably tell you his life story if you sat still long enough.  Even their individual styles were so different he couldn't quite picture them sitting side by side, let alone...

So he was half-listening to Axel's rant on dumb calls to the student technical support center when the waiter arrived.  He noted, first of all, that there were no menus to be seen--either on the table or in the waiter's hand.  The waiter, in fact, was holding two drinks that they didn't order, a Pepsi and a lemonade, it looked like, and only after they were set on the table along with a pair of straws did the waiter look from Axel to Sora.

And he paused there, for a long moment.  Just staring, like he'd never seen a teenage boy before in his life and could not imagine what one was doing in this booth seat, right here.  Sora blinked back, noted that the guy's hair was way too long in front and forgave the rather girly elastic headband that was holding it back neatly--probably a work requirement.

The waiter apparently decided he was finished taking in Sora's appearance, and turned to stare at Axel, instead.  Hard.  His expression hadn't changed, he wasn't scowling, but his eyes narrowed slightly and even Sora thought he could feel the weight of that stare crushing him.

"So--"  Axel was saying, one hand in the air and the other flicking his cigarette, and he chose that moment to finally realize that the waiter was standing there.  Sora didn't know how the hell he missed the stare.  Honestly.  And he didn't even look up, just waved his free hand at him.  "Just the usual."

The waiter continued to stand and stare, and after a moment while Axel took a long pull of his cigarette and was about to launch back into his story, he _noticed_ that the waiter was still there.  And finally looked up, studying the stare and the uncanny weight of it.

He hunched his shoulders in a combined gesture of confusion and attempted placation.  "What, Z?"

The waiter raised his eyebrows.  Darted a look towards Sora and no other part of his body moved.

"Oh for--Z, this is Sora.  Sora, Zexion."  Axel gestured to each of them in turn and dropped his hands to the table in a kind of defeat.  "Sora is Roxas's roommate.  We're having a 'meet the family' dinner."

"I see."  The guy continued staring for a moment before turning and politely shaking Sora's hand, a brief, wiry grasp before retreating and drawing a notepad out of his apron pocket.  Eyes flickering from Sora to the paper as he scribbled something on it.  "So, which of you is the family and which is asking for Roxas's hand in marriage?"

"Shut up and get my food, Z."

"Roxas always orders a Pepsi and almond chicken," Zexion continued without acknowledging Axel, who was becoming increasingly irritable at being ignored.  "If you want something different now is the time to say so."

"Pork fried rice," Sora said immediately, and Zexion nodded and flipped the notepad closed without writing the order in it.  Sora watched him replace it in his pocket and frowned in thought.  "You're the one painting the mural at the skate park."

The waiter blinked at him and Axel took the moment to chuckle at his expense.  "Told you," he intoned, something knowing in the not-quite-exchange before he returned to address Sora.  "Z's been working on the overpass wall for years.  It would've been done a long time ago but he keeps changing his mind."

"It's called _composition_ ," Zexion corrected, having regained the small amount of composure lost presumably by the fact that Sora knew who he was via Roxas.  It was kind of strange and nice at the same time, knowing that other people had the same problems with Roxas that he did.  Zexion stepped back from the table to go place their orders with the kitchen, and gave Sora a deferential nod.  "Welcome to the fold."

 

 

Sometime while halfway through his lo mein, Axel lifted his chopsticks to indicate Sora and said around his mouthful, "So I hear you're seeing someone."

"Well," Sora said in consideration and decided that was a pretty good word for it.  "Yeah."

"Anyone I might know?"

Sora finished his bite and swallowed, setting his fork aside before replying, as eating would probably be out of the question while conversing with Axel.  "His name's Riku."

And Axel would have done well to take Sora's internal advice, as he immediately choked on the food in his mouth, wheezed for a moment, then took a long gulp of lemonade before he was able to breathe normally and regard Sora without his eyes bulging.

"I take it you know him."

"You're going out with Riku," Axel said to confirm the idea.  " _The_ Riku.  Silver hair.  Swim team.  Punk ass."

"Yeah."

"Of course I know him."  Axel reached for his lemonade again and took another drink, coughing one last time as he set it aside.  "It's hard to forget that fantastic of a public outing."

Sora's interest peaked instantly, and he forgot all about his food, elbows on the table and leaning forward.  "You were there?"

"It's the only time in my life I was ever glad Roxas was a sophomore."  Axel noted his interest with a grin and sat back in his seat, preparing to launch into 'story mode'.

"Wait--Roxas was there?"

"Of course he was, why else would _I_ have been?"  Axel waved one hand in dismissal and request for silence, lighting a cigarette quickly so he had something to gesture with.  "See, we were at his locker, right?  Normal day like any other, when all of a sudden, right behind us, this girl just _screeches_ \--"

"What girl?"

"How should I know?  I never ran with the 'in' crowd, it was some little brunette thing."

Sora wet his lips.  "Not Olette?"

"Nonono," Axel rejected this with a cutting motion, shaking his head in punctuation.  "She'd never do that--hell, I think it was just an accident anyway, but I really couldn't say.  So we turn around and here's this prep--"

Sora made a noise that started out sounding like 'what' but ended up being abbreviated and slightly mangled, and thankfully Axel noted his abrupt loss of the story's train and lowered his hands, taking a long drag and blowing it out before addressing Sora seriously.

"Your boyfriend," he said, flicking the tip of the cigarette on the ashtray, "was a prep.  Wore polo shirts and got movie-star haircuts and had all the girls swooning over him."  He took another drag before continuing thoughtfully.  "Don't think anyone would've thought he was gay, but the little brunette thing made it pretty clear."

"Oh," Sora said, because he really couldn't think of anything else.  So _that_ was how it happened.  "But," he continued his own thought aloud, "that doesn't explain why they hate each other."

Axel blinked at him for a minute before his eyes widened in understanding and he gave an exaggerated nod, stamping out the cigarette and folding his arms on the table in front of him.  "Yeah, that's one of the world's great mysteries.  I'll tell you something, though."  He paused to shift into a more comfortable position, one hand reaching up to scratch at his hair absently.  "Roxas--you've probably noticed by now that he's a hopeless fucking romantic, right?  He's got this bad habit of boycrushing over whatever falls into his line of sight.  At the moment that happens to be you, but you're following, right?"

Sora paused.  "He's _crushing_ on me?"

"Don't take it the wrong way.  You're not competition, kid.  If you were, I sure as hell wouldn't be buying you dinner."  Axel fiddled with his napkin for a moment, and for lack of a cigarette picked up his chopsticks again just to have something in his hand.  "I don't know what went down with him and Riku.  I wasn't there--but I saw the aftermath, and I know when a guy's been rejected."

Sora shook his head firmly, pausing to run both hands through his hair and collect all his mental notes together, delegating the two couch potatoes in his head to sift through them and find all the relevant information.  "But Riku said you guys were making fun of him."  He lowered his hands after a moment to stare at Axel, watching him now with eyebrows raised and his own set of mental wheels turning.  "He said that Roxas made everything worse for him."

Axel's tongue darted out, caught between his lips for a moment as his attention darted to the side, around the room thoughtfully before returning to Sora and he was starting to really frown, now.  Concern in the way his forehead wrinkled.  "But I sent Roxas off to confess to him.  So what the hell happened?"

"I think," Sora said, finally, both his mental constructs now clutching their notes in distress, "that there's been a serious misunderstanding, here."

 

 

"There was something important I meant to tell you, actually," Axel said about a block from the dormitory, another cigarette in his mouth and it bobbed when he talked, both his hands still in his pockets.  It was rather cold, actually, so maybe that was why.  "Or ask you, I guess."

Sora slowed down his steps and Axel followed suit, for once, pulled one hand out to draw the cigarette aside and tap it with his index finger for a minute; he was quiet, patiently waiting while Axel failed totally to look at him.

"A couple weeks ago he snuck over to my place.  It was a Sunday, I think."

"I remember," Sora said, because it was hard to forget that Monday morning and the close call.

"Well, I don't know what you said to him that made him decide to come over," Axel said, shrugging, looking up finally to meet Sora's eyes, and there was a smile on his face that was kind of silly and made the little tattoos on his cheeks bunch up.  "But say it more often, okay?"

Sora sputtered and started laughing, resuming his previous pace until they were almost at the front steps and Axel didn't seem to mind much that he found that so amusing.  After a moment and a few deep breaths, he said, "You too, huh?"

"Hmm.  Yeah."

"When did you know?"

Axel paused with the cigarette halfway to his mouth looking over at him for a moment, then lowered it.  "September 10, 1992.  Portland Meadows.  Sometime between the beginning and the end of _About a Girl_."  He grinned, and for a moment it echoed a similar expression that Roxas had, and then he raised one hand in farewell, cigarette still smoking between his fingers.  "Later, Sora."

"Yeah, later."  He stood on the bottom step and watched Axel walk back around the building towards the parking lot, only going up and inside when he was no longer visible.  He waved to the dorm mother and trudged up the stairs, brain whirling with thoughts and all the information Axel had provided--so when he arrived in his room he almost jumped out of his skin when Roxas's voice spoke abruptly from the top bunk.

"Where the hell've you been?"

Sora stuttered, regained his composure but his voice didn't quite obey him, and he waved at the door in a pathetic kind of explanation.  "Dinner," he said intelligently, then backtracked and explained, "Axel, he showed up in the parking lot looking for me."

Roxas blinked down at him, propped up on his elbow and eyes wide.  "Axel was _here_?"

"Yeah.  He just left."

There was a pause in the room, during which it fell so silent that a pin drop would have sounded like crashing cymbals, and during that pause neither boy moved or even appeared to breathe.

And following that pause--only a fraction of a second, really--Roxas launched himself out of bed in a single flying leap and raced out the door with impressive speed, still in his socks.

He left his skateboard for once, Sora noticed, and sighed.  Then turned back to the door to follow him.

 

 

It wasn't a far run, but it was far enough that Roxas had time to waver back and forth between elation and outrage.  Far enough that he had time to wonder why the hell Axel decided to show up to visit Sora instead of him.  Far enough that he had time to think about the drama club room and Sora scowling at him and far enough that he had time to feel guilty about it now, more than before, even, while he was racing outside to try and catch his boyfriend for the one brief moment they were in approximately the same space.

He tried to skid around the corner of the building but it was kind of hard in socks, and the ground was really cold under his feet so he just stopped instead, looked around to try and catch a glimpse of Axel's retreating figure.  He saw nothing, so he turned and backtracked and raced to the other corner of the building, peering down the narrow alley to the parking lot just visible behind it, and--

There he was, just leaning against the wall, both hands in his pockets and looking Roxas over like he'd been waiting there for hours.  "Took you long enough."

"What--" he started, then stopped and stalked forward into the alley, watching the way Axel's mouth curved up into a smirk.  "You came to see Sora but not me."

"You were in detention."

"Yeah, but--"

"I'm right here, Rox."  Axel shrugged a little, pulling his hands out and holding them to either side, something between welcome and surrender.

He felt guilty again, scanning the alley first and looking for windows, passerby, anything at all.  There were a few bushes opposite where Axel was standing, against the wall, so Roxas grabbed him by one hand and pushed him behind one of them, made sure they were sufficiently close together and Axel's hands were settling on his back before he tangled one hand in Axel's hair, leaned up and kissed him.

It only took a moment, just a long press together before Axel had to lean his weight back against the wall, wrapped his arms tighter around Roxas and pulled him close and up, and Roxas had lost any concept of what was around him other than that.  Axel's mouth and the taste of smoke and one hand running up to the back of his neck, tilting his head, tongue sliding deeper and he wanted to moan but it didn't quite make it to his mouth, just a hum in his throat, sigh through his nose and his fingers curling--one hand in Axel's hair and one in the shoulder of his jacket.

One of them was shivering, and he wasn't totally sure which.  Either, maybe both.

They probably stopped to breathe, not really pulling away so much as pausing, lips still brushing together and breath mingling, and Axel grinned.  "See, it's not like I would've gone anywhere."

"But you didn't come here to see _me_."

Axel rolled his eyes at his indignation, same as always.  "I just wanted to meet him."

"You could have asked."

"And what good would that have done?"  Axel laughed softly against his lips, eyes half closed as they brushed together, soft tease.  "I see your little game, Rox, you just want me all for yourself."

The second kiss was slower.  Longing.  And Roxas really did shiver and Axel moaned, so quiet it was almost a whisper and they were so close and tangled in each other it was like there was no distinction anymore.  And when it broke Axel buried his face in the curve of Roxas's neck and murmured, "I miss you," soft and hot against his skin.

"Friday," Roxas said into his hair.  "Promise."

"Mmk."

Sora was waiting at the mouth of the alley when he walked back out, slightly more disheveled than he'd gone in.  Standing guard, perhaps, and it felt like forgiveness for that scene back in the costume closet earlier that day.   He fell easily into step at Roxas's side, a funny little smile on his face.

"You know," Sora said with no intention of explaining what he was talking about, "I think I can picture you two together, after all."


	19. Interstate Love Song

**19:  Interstate Love Song** _  
  
June 1990_  
  
Axel mostly knew Roxas--at first, anyhow--as the pissy twelve-year-old brat with a skateboard who just _would not_ stay out of their overpass.  They had claimed it--himself and his buddies--see, because the city had decided that skateboarding was becoming a 'rising youth problem' or some other stupid shit like that, and had started relegating small 'skate parks' in different areas around town in places that no one else wanted--like, for example, below a freeway overpass--so that the poor troubled skateboarding youth could go somewhere that was _away_ from the non-skateboarding public.  
  
It only made sense in the way things made sense to adults.  Which meant, of course, that it was total fucking bullshit, but it afforded the skaters a few half-pipes if nothing else.  
  
Axel wasn't a skater.  A few of his friends were, however, and to show solidarity against the bullshit excuses of grown-ups, he and his friends who weren't went along to the overpass anyway and parked themselves on the concrete and spent their time practicing how to look cool and badass and unapproachable by the junior high kids.  He learned how to smoke before he learned how to drive, and he learned how to string his curses together in ways that would intimidate kids two years his senior, and on weekend nights after the sun went down he would sit in a circle with his buddies and whoever else happened to be there that evening, and learned how to handle himself stoned.  Things were good.  
  
Then Roxas showed up.  
  
He was this girlishly petite blond thing, first of all.  He was a little too wobbly on his board and a little too consciously dressed, second of all.  He scowled, and he walked into the park like he had every right to be there, and his eyes were huge and blue and more fiery than Axel's hair.  
  
They were good boys--they used their words, at least at first.  They weren't very nice words, of course, but they were just words.  When those stopped carrying enough clout to send him packing, _then_ they started to rough him up.  Just a bit.  Just enough to get the point across.  And when that stopped working, they kicked his ass a few times.  
  
He kept coming back.  And after the last time they sent him home bruised and bloody only to have him return the next day black-eyed and bandaged, they figured they'd run out of options.  
  
At first, Roxas would just hang on the edges of the park and practice freestyle tricks on the flat sidewalks and the curbs and the concrete dunes.  Axel didn't remember exactly when the kid had started in on the half-pipe, or when he himself had started running commentary for him.  He wasn't sure when it was that the kid had started standing next to Zexion staring at his goddamn overpass wall, equally as motionless and equally as aggravatingly thoughtful.  He wasn't sure when it was that Larxene started teaching him how to grind on the long curb that ran beside the street no one but the cops ever bothered driving down.  Or when Demyx had started giving him advice on styling products.  He wasn't sure just when it was that Roxas had become a member of his circle of friends and their circles of smoke on weekend nights.  
  
But he did.  And he was.  And on reflection, Axel wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _October 1991_  
  
Axel forgot a lot of things that could be attributed to a very well-wasted youth.  He was never entirely sure when he'd gotten those tattoos on his face, or what artist had been threatened, bribed, or otherwise cajoled into performing facial tats on a minor, but silently hoped that there hadn't been any sexual favors involved.  In the most polite company he kept, he figured he must have had some really good shit on that particular day.  
  
The _entirety_ of age fifteen was a foggy gray blank.  He was pretty sure he was in school most of the time, and he must have gone to class because his parents had never gone nuclear on his ass for getting kicked out and when he went to register for junior year classes no one gave him any funny looks.  It was at this point that he made the decision to keep his feet on the ground a little more often.  
  
By reputation, though, he'd heard that sophomore year wasn't worth remembering, anyway.  
  
So, in all honesty, he had no idea when it was that he'd given Roxas his phone number.  The kid had never shown any indication of actually _having_ it, and his friends generally knew where to find him if they needed him.  If Roxas wanted to hang, all he had to do was drop in at Axel's basement, wait for him to show at the skate park, or go to the arcade and forcibly remove his umbilical attachment to House of the Dead.  
  
His mother trudging down the stairs to his room to hand him the phone was a rare and not entirely pleasant experience.  The last time it had happened, there had been a girl on the other end that he vaguely remembered from somewhere, but he didn't recall giving _her_ his number any more than he recalled giving it to Roxas.  He did recall making a fucking incredible fool of himself before that particular call ended, however.  She never did call again.  
  
Therefore, when his mother sighed and waved the handset at him over the stair railing and waited for him to come and take it, he did so in the manner of a man approaching what must certainly be his doom.  
  
"Hello," he said to his intended executioner.  
  
"Uh.  Hey."  Roxas was fourteen, and his voice had just started making that mortifying crack, the one where it would jerk from soprano to bass and back in the span of .3 seconds.  
  
But the point was--whether his voice was breaking or not, Axel had no precedent for hearing it over the phone.  So initially he had made a sound that was his own voice trying to say a number of curse words at the same time, followed by, "Roxas," in a way that said very plainly 'what the fuck, why the hell are you calling me'--or at least, Axel thought it was plain.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay, right.  So.  What's up?"  Axel was not a phone conversationalist.  He liked to gesture, and on telephones no one could actually _see_ you gesture, rendering the act of doing so pointless.  Which was disheartening, really.  Despite this, he was willing to give Roxas the benefit of the doubt, at least for the next two minutes during which he damn well better explain himself.  
  
"Nothing."  Roxas failed to do anything of the sort, and his voice really did sound genuinely bored.  And a bit squeaky around the edges.  Axel used to tease him about it, but stopped around the time Roxas had threatened his manhood, among other things.  Now Axel only teased him mentally.  "Didn't feel like calling my parents."  
  
"Nice to know I'm the next step down on the random-person-to-call ladder."  He was only half sarcastic on that point, but it kind of died when some noises filtered over the line, and they weren't exactly home-environment background noises.  In fact, they sounded kind of institutional.  Heavy doors closing, footsteps on linoleum.  "Where the hell are you?"  
  
Roxas didn't answer right away.  He imagined the kid was making that 'obvious avoidance' face, the one where he scowled and looked to one side instead of straight at you.  "Detention."  
  
"It's eight at night.  The school's closed, with the possible exception of some really, really dedicated or, more likely, insane teachers."  
  
"Not... not _that_ detention."  
  
Axel had a million comebacks for that.  Or rather, he was pretty sure he had, until he realized just what Roxas meant by that.  Having realized this, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to scream his head off, or laugh his ass off.  Lost ass or lost head.  Decisions, decisions.  
  
He ended up saying, or yelling, rather--"Holy fuck, you're in _juvie_?"  
  
"It's not that big a deal, Axel."  His voice squeaked in the middle of 'Axel'.  Right between the A and the X.  
  
"I'll be the judge of that," _puberty boy_ , he added mentally.  "Wha'd you do?"  
  
Roxas didn't reply for almost a full minute, during which Axel worried that he might have unintentionally let that 'puberty boy' slip out, and Roxas was now devising a grisly end for his naughty parts.  
  
"I stole a car."  
  
"Roxas," Axel said very slowly and carefully, because he didn't want to point out the glorious ways in which his voice had become female at the end of that sentence, "there are a multitude of things wrong with that entire idea.  First of all, you can't drive."  
  
"I figured it out."  
  
"You're not even tall enough to reach the pedals."  Axel was pacing around his room at this point, noting that the Black Sabbath poster on the far wall wasn't hanging crookedly enough--and gesturing, and feeling rather murderous towards telecommunications in general that Roxas was unable to see him gesturing.  "Secondly, your dad has like, six cars.  You could have taken one of those and he'd of never missed it."  
  
"That would have been beside the point, then," Roxas said deliberately, and deliberately avoided any further cracking.  Axel was suitably deprived of any mental commentary.  
  
"Okay, fine."  Axel could have commented on the superficiality of teenage rebellion.  Said something about kids seeking attention.  He'd met Roxas's father all of once, and he knew exactly where the kid had inherited his attitude.  "But where were you gonna go, anyway?"  
  
Roxas made a sound in his throat.  Like he'd started to reply to something else and then stopped.  Axel figured that was probably the first time anyone had bothered asking him that question.  "I... dunno.  Away."  
  
"You know, Roxas."  Axel paused in his pacing to pull some of the thumbtacks out of his not-crooked-enough poster, mentally gaging the tilt needed to produce the desired effect.  And mentally chiding himself for being such a goddamn softie.  "The entire fucking world is full of people doing stupid shit for stupid reasons when all they really want is to escape."  
  
"Yeah, so.  Stealing a car might not be such a bad idea."  His voice spiked somewhere in the middle, evened out to the tenor it was going to be after nature's cruel adolescent jokes were over.  
  
"That's not what I meant."  The paper slid against the wall, turned slightly, and he started sticking the tacks back in, head tilted against the phone to hold it on his shoulder.  "Next time you want to go 'I dunno, away' don't steal any fucking cars.  Just come over here or something."  
  
He justified this by telling himself that the kid was just young and naive and angry enough at the world that he inspired some kind of protective instinct.  One of those primal things that never really evolved away no matter how hard mankind tried to pretend it was better than the monkeys.  
  
Roxas said, "Okay," and it didn't break.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _September, 1992_  
  
Zexion had been in on the whole thing, see--because there was nothing better or more deeply satisfying than seeing Roxas so pleased it embarrassed him.  He'd fume and pretend to be mad for at least the first few minutes, or however long he could keep it up, before breaking into this dazzling grin.  It was fantastic, and it only lasted a few seconds.  Kind of like those cactus flowers that only bloom once every ten years or whatever.  
  
Roxas's potential reaction aside, Zexion was what Axel termed 'one of _those_ guys', and meant it in both adoration and resentment.  Meaning that he:  
  
1.  Thought about things, and  
  
2.  Had connections.  
  
Both of these being qualities that Axel specifically lacked, he generally failed to recognize either until a full concept of the situation was visible.  
  
So when it started, on the first day of September in the murky depths of the Tilt, while Axel was shooting zombies and fish tanks with impunity and Zexion was leaning against the side of his arcade addiction of choice, pop in hand and chewing on the straw idly without actually drinking it, the phrase:  
  
"Roxas's birthday is on the tenth, right?"  
  
\--did not appear to be anything other than what it was.  Axel had shrugged, thought about it for a moment while reloading his clip and then shot a few more zombies for good measure before responding.  "Yeah, guess it is."  
  
He had a random thought about a cake at some point, and then something about brownies, and after that forgot the conversation entirely.  
  
Until two days later.  
  
Zexion had a can of blue spray paint in one hand and black in the other, and was studying his overpass wall at the skate park with a muted interest.  He was wearing that flannel that was multicolored not due to plaid but rather the myriad of paint smudges covering it because he chose that particular shirt to wear whenever he planned on spending a significant amount of time on graffiti, and this was all Axel would really remember later (other than the fact that he himself was wearing a new Slayer t-shirt and threatened the other boy's life several times preventatively in regards to the spray paint).  And he said, offhand, shaking the blue can a few times before filling in a corner of his outlines:  
  
"I need fifty dollars from you."  
  
Axel mentally stumbled around several exclamations, retorts, heated queries and expletives before settling on, "WHAT?"  
  
"That's your cut.  I need it by tomorrow."  
  
"My cut."  Axel repeated and began pacing, because that always seemed to help things make a moderate amount of sense.  Although, this was Zexion, and pacing had never helped matters where he was concerned before now.  "You missed a spot.  My cut for what, exactly?"  
  
Zexion tilted his head to the side and looked at him across his shoulder, hand still poised on the spray can, offering one of _those_ looks.  That 'I can't believe I have to explain this to you' look.  "Roxas's birthday present, of course."  
  
"What the hell is he getting that costs multiples of fifty dollars?"  
  
The _look_ grew, eyes widening and brows creeping up, and Zexion took a step back from the concrete wall to give the black spray can a cursory shake.  "Trust me."  
  
" _Trust_ you," Axel intoned, and he was gesturing wildly at this point in addition to pacing, and was exceedingly grateful that this was definitely not a phone conversation.  "How the fuck do you expect me to come up with fifty dollars by tomorrow?"  
  
Zexion appeared to give this careful consideration for all of five seconds, then shrugged, eyes falling closed before he turned back to his concrete and his spray-can artistic endeavors.  "You'll find a way."  
  
And the scary thing was, Axel did.  The scarier thing was, he accomplished it legally.  It had involved some loss of pride on his part, in the form of groveling before his parents for an allowance advance and groveling to a McCo-worker for a shift trade, and a few mowed lawns for good measure.  But he got the fifty, plus a little extra, and presented it to Zexion during his lunch break when the guy showed up at the smoking pit behind the dumpsters that smelled perpetually of spoiling Big Macs.  It was unpleasant, which was probably why Zexion immediately stole his cigarette and took a long pull.  
  
"You gonna tell me what you're doing with my fifty dollars, now?"  
  
Zexion showed no sign of relinquishing the cigarette.  Axel shrugged and lit another one, and with two going the stink wasn't so bad.  
  
"We're going to kidnap him," he explained slowly, tilting his head back to trail smoke out over the darkening sky.  "And take him on a field trip."  
  
That explained nothing.  Axel muttered as much under his breath, colorfully, and sucked down his nicotine with a bitter resolve.  
  
"I have one condition, though."  
  
"What the _fuck_ , man."  Axel bit the words out slowly, as though doing so would help Zexion to understand the position that he inexplicably found himself in.  Or at least appreciate the stress of flipping burgers on a double shift.  "This was your idea.  _Yours_.  Totally.  You don't get to call conditions."  
  
"You have to give it to him."  
  
"Why?"  
  
And there was that _other_ look.  Worse than the 'you're an idiot and I'm wasting my time spelling this out for you' look--this one was Zexion's personal version of amusement.  It was a tilt of the mouth just slightly upwards, and the result was strangely terrifying, at least in certain lights.  "Because you're taller than me, and you can hold it over his head and make him jump."  
  
"He'll kill me for doing that," Axel said, matter-of-fact, because Roxas would.  Painfully.  
  
"Not when he sees what it is."  
  
And thus it was that on the sixth day of September, Axel found himself standing in the middle of the skate park with an envelope in his hand, held high above his head, staring down at Roxas--who, in turn, was staring up at him with folded arms and a scowl, skateboard under one foot and murder apparent in his fiery blue eyes.  
  
Axel offered up a silent prayer for his immortal soul and said, "Come on, Rox, it's your birthday present!  You can get it.  Jump."  
  
Zexion was somewhere behind him, and Larxene and Demyx were somewhere behind _him_ , and Axel cursed them all for being fucking cowards.  Particularly when Roxas leveled him with a freezing stare and said, "Give it to me before I kick you in the nuts."  
  
And Axel did, because he valued his nether-regions, and there was laughter from various places behind him.  He cursed them again and included all future generations in the deal.  
  
It was worth it, though, because Roxas flipped the envelope open and shook out the five pieces of cardstock inside onto his palm, and made a small, surprised noise.  And it was worth it, because he turned those pieces of cardstock over and examined the printing on the front, and made a higher, strangled noise.  
  
And then the tickets were curled carefully in one hand and the empty envelope was being crushed in the other, and Roxas was gritting his teeth and hissing at the ground.  Fuming.  "What the _fuck_."  
  
But Axel knew him well enough by this point to recognize a job well done, and just stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, waiting for the reward.  "Happy birthday."  
  
Everything in the entirety of his life had been worth it when Roxas looked up and that smile spread across his face.  It wasn't huge, but it made his eyes curve at the corners and it showed his teeth and it was so real it could probably kill someone with a weak heart.  So Axel imagined, anyway.  
  
Zexion, he figured, probably knew what he was doing.  
  
  
  
  
  
They had to drive to Portland in Larxene's Pinto.  Prior to that they had to come up with valid excuses to feed their parents to cover for the fact that they were skipping town on a school night--because parents were uncool and had no concept that going to Portland to see the greatest band in history was far, _far_ more important than going to class for the better part of two days.  
  
None of the excuses were going to hold for long, as they were all fairly lame and full of holes.  All five of them fully expected to return home only to be grounded for the remainder of their natural lives.  
  
But, clearly, this was worth it  
  
Axel couldn't pull off the grunge look the way that Roxas could--maybe it was the hair.  Or the fact that Roxas looked good in stuff like plaid, khaki and olive green.  But that didn't matter too much--Roxas would wear the band's t-shirt under his flannel because he was an unwitting dork like that from time to time (or that might've been proof he really was a hardcore fan.  One or the other.)  Personally, Axel found every studded wrist strap he owned and used them to fill the gap on his lower arms from the black jean jacket he'd had since he was thirteen and headbanging to Iron Maiden.  
  
They were both unwitting dorks, sometimes.  
  
The trip there was a blur of being squished in the back seat, Roxas in the middle between Axel and Demyx, and whatever metal Larxene was blasting through the speakers of the Pinto's tinny stereo.  The wait in line outside was a blur of late-summer sunlight and flannel and hemp and the pervasive smell of pot and war-whooping youth.  And the concert, once they were inside the barricades and cradled within the vibrating press of the venue-wide mosh pit and sweating from the opening acts, was...  
  
Axel wasn't really a religious guy, so he didn't have a word for it.  But the look that fell onto Roxas's face and remained there for the entirety of the show could definitely be described as _devout_.  
  
They played _Breed._   They played _Drain Me_.  They played _Aneurysm_ and _School_ and _Sliver_ and _In Bloom_ and Demyx and Larxene jumped up and down like the smoke and the beach balls bouncing over the audience and crashed into each other like they'd lost any semblance of coherency.  Zexion stood beside them, mostly still aside from nodding to the beat and lips moving in time with the words and occasionally being jostled by the moshers, yet unruffled for all of that.    
  
They played _Come As You Are_ and Roxas rammed into his shoulder, and Axel grinned and they grabbed each other by the collar and screamed out the lyrics along with everyone else.  They played _Lithium_ and the pit went wild and by the end of it Axel had headbanged himself into a state of dizzy euphoria and Roxas was clinging to his jacket sleeve, heavy against his side and laughing, and that was when Axel forgot about the band on the stage and started staring at the boy next to him, instead.  
  
They played _About a Girl_ and Roxas gazed up at the stage in rapt attention, all the lines of his face softened by awe and the stage lighting that left the audience half in shadow.  His mouth was softly open, moving to sing along and Axel knew if he could actually hear it over the roar of the amps and the spectators his voice would be in perfect tune, an even tenor--because Roxas could sing any Nirvana song from memory on demand and had proven it to them all on numerous occasions.  
  
His eyes glittered, almost luminescent blue in the dim light.  
  
Axel would never remember the rest of the set list.  
  
He remembered the drive home, though, the dark and flicker of passing lights through the window and Roxas smushed against him, and at one point he'd shrugged and lifted his arm to rest against the back of the seat on pretense of poking Demyx in the temple--because seriously, it does _not_ take that long to load a bowl--and if Roxas noted the corny, movie-theater-date-esque move, he didn't say anything.  In fact, Axel was pretty sure Roxas was oblivious to the entire epiphany he had experienced that night and was currently still experiencing, with Roxas squeezed up tight and warm against his side and scream-singing along with everyone else (himself included).  Larxene had switched out her metal for _Nevermind_ the second they hit the car after the show.  
  
 _I like it, I'm not gonna crack--_  
  
"Fuck, Demyx, just give me the pipe already."  Larxene made a snapping motion with her fingers over the back of the seat, glaring at them through the rearview mirror.  
  
Demyx shook his head stubbornly and batted her hand away.  "You know passing to the left is bad luck."  
  
"I will _give_ your scrawny ass some fucking bad luck if that pipe is not in my hands in the next ten seconds."  
  
"Hey, Ax," Roxas murmured underneath the argument, and his heart almost stopped.  
  
 _I miss you, I'm not gonna crack--_  
  
Roxas's eyes were wide and blue and he was still glowing from the concert, sweat around the edges of his hair and sticking his bangs to his forehead.   He looked up for a moment, just still and halfway on the way to saying something, and Axel just stared back because he had lost all function to do anything else.  
  
 _I love you, I'm not gonna crack--_  
  
His gaze darted to the side abruptly.  "I just... you know.  It was kickass of you guys to do this.  I mean, you got to come to the concert too so it's not like there wasn't something in it for you, but..."  He looked back up and there was a smile on his face--not the dazzling grin he had when he opened an envelope in the middle of the skate park and found Nirvana tickets inside, but a small one.  Bare curve of lips.  It was a single dose, a personal helping of smile and no one could see it but Axel.  "Thanks."  
  
 _I killed you, I'm not gonna crack..._  
  
"Yeah," Axel said and didn't know how his voice succeeded in saying that much.  He thought he might try saying something else, but everything that popped into his head sounded lame.  
  
Then Demyx was shoving the pipe at them and demanding that they take their hits as quickly as humanly possible before Larxene intentionally crashed the car or something.  Everything after that was comfortable haze and warmth, tinny stereo playing back _Something in the Way_ and it lasted five times as long as it usually did the way songs do when you're suitably high, and Roxas fell asleep on his shoulder around the time they passed The Dalles.  Hair tickling Axel's chin and breath rustling against his collar.  
  
He considered this for a while, and later he would blame the amount of smoke trapped in the car for deciding to wrap his arm around Roxas to settle them snugly together, and laying his cheek on the top of the kid's head (and his hair was gritty and flaky with gel and sticky with sweat but it's not like he noticed or cared), and falling asleep himself.  
  
Axel had to have some kind of defense, see, because the other three never let him live that down.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _September & October, 1993_  
  
Roxas had this bad habit called love at first sight.  Axel had always been vaguely aware of it, but somehow after the concert it became increasingly and painfully clear.  He'd harbored a crush on that Hayner kid for most of junior high, Axel was pretty sure; sometime during freshman year his focus started to shift, though, and bounce around from upperclassman to upperclassman.  There was an odd month in there in which he made the abrupt discovery that Demyx existed, and then two months immediately afterward in which he had a sinking fixation with Zexion, and after this he settled on the college student who worked the counter at the Tilt occasionally.  Axel would remember minding this particular crush the least, as it resulted in Roxas being more than willing to spend hours on end at the arcade with him.  
  
The irony of all this, of course, was that Axel knew he could have what he wanted.  He knew, despite the fair amount of subtlety and discretion that Roxas possessed, that the kid most definitely swung that way.  
  
What held Axel back was the fact that Roxas's focal point never landed on _him_.  The brat had looked a little too long at pretty much every other guy on the planet (or failing that, at least every fairly young and good-looking male in the general vicinity of Bright, Oregon), except Axel.  
  
So, Axel said nothing, and Roxas continued having this habit, and one day in the middle of the sophomore hall Axel had the singular opportunity to watch it in action.  
  
Roxas was kicking at his locker--the lower hinges were crooked and getting the thing to close required a number of well-placed kicks alongside and underneath it, along with some slams of a fist.  It was all very complicated but Axel had gotten used to ignoring it, and was in fact in the middle of a rather one-sided discussion concerning the length of the skirt the student teacher in the history department wore; Axel was making some kind of gesture with his hands regarding this when the shout came.  And it really shouldn't have been surprising that both he and Roxas froze in place for a good ten seconds until they were both certain that the shout hadn't been directed at them.  
  
Axel didn't think Roxas ever noticed this.  
  
He'd never forget, though, watching what happened to Roxas when he turned around and shuffled down the hall towards the source of the commotion along with everyone else.  He'd never forget, and no one else would ever see it--the little thrill that ran through Roxas's body the first time he saw _that_ guy.  The way he went so still and limp his skateboard nearly slipped out of his fingers and Axel thought he might collapse on the floor.  The way his mouth fell softly open.  The way his eyes brightened.  
  
Love at first sight looked good on him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Axel was pretty sure the wrenching pain running through his body on pretty much a daily basis had something to do with his heart breaking.  He was pretty sure, also, that Roxas was now experiencing the same irony Axel had, that he was falling hard for a guy who had the aptitude to return the sentiment, but failed utterly to do anything about it.  
  
It was bad, this time.  The subtlety and discretion Roxas once possessed had evaporated, leaving behind a seriously lovesick boy who was very obviously seriously lovesick to anyone and everyone who looked at him--this, as opposed to the old days (as Axel thought of them fondly now) when only Roxas's best friend was savvy enough with how he operated to notice that he was crushing on someone.  Roxas had it really, really bad and after the first month it was starting to really, really hurt to see him like that.  Also, Axel had run out of material to tease him with.  So had Larxene, which was saying something, so he figured it was time to resolve this, somehow.  
  
He resolved it at the Tilt, because it was easier to talk about things there when it was half-dark and he had an excuse to focus on the backlit screen instead of on Roxas's face and there was a wall of sound behind them assuring the conversation was private.  
  
"You should just tell him," he started with, because he had no finesse for this sort of thing and he didn't really want to parse words over the fact that yes, Axel knew and that he'd known for a while, largely as he'd already established all of this in his head years ago and didn't feel like revisiting the entire process.  Roxas could just deal.  "Riku, I mean.  Things are pretty bad for him, so.  Maybe you'd be good."  
  
The pause Roxas enacted after that stunning lack of tact was incremental.  It started somewhere in denial and ended up in grudging acceptance, and finished with Roxas reloading his clip and taking out another wave of zombies.  "No."  
  
Axel fumbled with his controls and used a muttered 'fuck' to hide the hitch in his throat.  "Why not?"  
  
"I don't want his life."  
  
Roxas said it with such a certainty that even Axel believed, for a few minutes, that every gay guy who went public (willingly or otherwise) ended up with Riku's situation as a result.  After that moment passed, though, Axel scoffed and punched the trigger.  "Never thought you'd pussy out of simple societal defamation, Rox.  It's not like you're a professional delinquent or anything."  
  
"I'm not pussying out," Roxas hissed, paying less attention to the game now that his blood was up and subsequently losing his round.  He cursed creatively for a moment and slammed his palm on the console, turning around to face the arcade at large and run a hand through his hair before turning back to stare at Axel's hands on the controls.  "I don't want that.  It's no big deal anyway, just fucking forget it."  
  
"Liar."  Axel grinned fiercely at the screen, that feeling in his chest tightening and twisting more with each pixel bullet, each crumpling zombie.  "You're in love, Rox-- _stupidly_ in love so don't be a fucking idiot.  Grow a pair and go tell him and deal with whatever the fuck happens after."  
  
One of them, Axel was sure, was a certifiable fucking hypocrite.  He just wasn't sure which.  
  
"Why the fuck do you care, anyway?"  
  
"Because I'm tired of you being miserable."  
  
Three days later Roxas finally muttered, "Yeah, okay, I'll do it," under his breath sometime during lunch when no one else was paying attention.  It took Axel five minutes to figure out what he meant and that was probably a good thing, because it made the wrenching pain in his chest become stabbing and it ripped through him like the antagonist of whatever slasher flick was running that particular year in preparation for Halloween.  
  
Ten minutes later he said, "Cool," and he was pretty sure his voice didn't waver noticeably.  
  
  
  
  
  
Two days later, Roxas appeared in his basement at two in the morning with nothing but his skateboard and the clothes on his back.  He didn't say anything, just pushed the door closed behind him and tromped inside, stowed his board under the coffee table and flopped down on the couch, facing the wall.  
  
"So," Axel muttered belatedly, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes and fumbling with the lamp next to his bed.  "What's up?"  
  
"Needed to escape."  Roxas's voice sounded kind of hoarse.  
  
He blinked a little in the gold angle of light, watching the line of Roxas's back on the couch, and figured possible reason number one for his presence.  If it had been his dad, he'd be pacing and fuming, not still and tense.  "You talk to Riku?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I'll take that to mean, 'Yes, Axel, I grew a pair just like you told me and poured out my poor lovestruck little heart to the boy of my dreams, but all did not go as planned and thus, having suffered this rejection I came directly here to mope on your couch.'"  
  
Roxas shifted a little.  
  
"You need a hug?"  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
Axel was never entirely sure what happened between those two.  He did know that Roxas ceased in all but his most obscure acts of crushing--those being visible solely to Axel, whose spirits raised considerably and the pain in his chest receded from stabbing to wrenching and finally back down to the dull ache it had been before all of this.  He figured that whatever had gone on, it had been sufficiently destructive.  
  
He didn't like Riku very much after that.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _April 8, 1994_  
  
One morning in April before the chill of the desert spring turned to summer, there was a small riot in the auxiliary field of County High School in the small but not totally obscure city of Bright, Oregon.  The pile of wood that had originally been intended for some team's school-spirit enhancing bonfire was set ablaze early, and with no regard for rules or classes or the adults who intended to put a stop to this, student after student arrived before the blaze to burn their belongings in effigy.  
  
The teachers, although making an attempt at controlling the situation, would back down at the sight of the entire event, because things were burning and the toughest bullies in the school were breaking down in tears while others, their quieter peers, were throwing their heads back and screaming obscenities at the sky.  
  
It's possible they may have realized that it wasn't a riot at all--just a display of grief, and teenagers just had a natural penchant for the dramatic.  
  
In the middle of all this, a small sophomore named Roxas approached the inferno at the center.  He stripped off his flannel, followed by his _In Utero_ t-shirt, and flung them both into the flames.  He sat on his knees and watched them burn, bare skin in the early spring air.  He watched as other things entered the blaze, flannel shirts, t-shirts, cassettes and CD's, photographs and posters and magazines all with the same face.  They fell to the flames and they smoked and they melted and they disintegrated into nothing.  
  
In the background, he could hear someone screaming and someone else starting to sing, and he mouthed the words along--because he could sing any Nirvana song from memory.  
  
 _Here we are now--_  
  
This is where Axel found him.  
  
Axel had found his skateboard first, actually, several yards away and no amount of rationalizing could soothe the panic that induced.  Roxas always had his board.  He would not have just dropped it and left it in the grass.  
  
But he found Roxas living and whole, knelt at the foot of the bonfire and staring into it entranced, arms limp at his sides, and he was crying.  Silently, tears sliding down his cheeks without provocation.  Bare from the waist up and too pale to be warm enough, in this air, on any occasion, with or without a smoking fire in front of him.  
  
The principal was going to call the police soon, and the fire department, and no matter how justified the circle of mourning students might be, the display would be struck down, swiftly.  Roxas didn't need to be here for that.  
  
Axel pulled him up by the shoulders--and he had done it gently, but shaking Roxas out of his reverie awakened something darker, and on his feet he instantly flung punch after punch in Axel's general direction, blindly, none of them connecting enough to harm.  He struggled and hit and screamed at Axel to fuck off, let him go, kicked and punched again and finally collapsed against his chest.  One hand still curled and beating weakly against his shoulder in time with a stuttering sob.  "That bastard."  A choke, a barely withheld scream of rage and pain and so, so much betrayal.  "That... that _bastard_."  
  
He had no response for that.  
  
Axel gave Roxas his skateboard and led him away from the fire, away from the people and the field and the school and the entire fucking day.  Led him to the basement den of his house, stuffed a towel under the door and attached a lighter and glassware to Roxas's hands until the kid was all but passed out on his couch.  And even then tears rolled silently down his cheeks.  
  
It scared Axel almost as much as finding Roxas's skateboard without him, the way he was broken open and raw.  He had no business being that vulnerable, ever--it wasn't right, not for Roxas, and that combined with the chronic is the only reason Axel could ever figure out for why he ended up on the couch on his back with Roxas sprawled over him, one hand on his back and one on his hair in a feeble attempt to soothe it all away.  
  
"It's just... it's so _final_ , isn't it?" Roxas murmured, ear pressed against Axel's heart.  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Death."  His limbs were heavy and his mind had to be fogging over with sleep, after inhaling all that smoke--  "I wonder.  If he really wanted to die, or if he just wanted to escape."  
  
"Either way," Axel murmured, and felt it rumble where Roxas was pillowed on his chest.  "We'll never know."  
  
Roxas didn't sleep, not for a long while, just lay and stared across the room, at the furniture and the posters and the haze stretched across it, the angle of light from the window.  
  
Axel wasn't a very good singer, and there was only one Nirvana song he had memorized.  But in a low tone under his breath it was passable.  
  
"I need an easy friend, I do, with an ear to lend--"  
  
It wasn't suggestive, what he was doing.  Like petting a cat, fingers ruffling and stroking the hair right above Roxas's neck.  And his eyes finally dropped closed, silent tears coming to a halt.  
  
"--I'll take advantage while you hang me out to dry, but I can't see you every night--"  
  
  
  
  
  
 _December, 1994_  
  
The only time Roxas ever talked about what happened with Riku to any degree was the first night of Christmas vacation.  Demyx and Larxene had already been spirited away to visit family in Idaho and Arizona (respectively) and Zexion's parents had some kind of moral opposition to him partying with his friends during the holidays.  Which made Roxas the only one who braved the foot of snow that had already half-melted and refrozen twice, leaving the roads and sidewalks treacherous with slush ruts and black ice, to come and visit his friend while he was home from the dorms.  Axel never asked how many times Roxas wiped out on his skateboard--so long as he wasn't bleeding anywhere.  
  
And this is how it happened that Roxas was sitting on his coffee table, facing Axel on the couch with maybe a warm two feet of air between them, Ozzie playing in the background and well into the process of blowing his mind.  Axel had asked at some point--what was it?  He'd asked, "Why are you so angry all the time?"  And maybe it was the cold or whatever bruises were under his clothes from falling on the sidewalk, or maybe it was the fact that they were alone together for the first time since Axel started his first year at the community college and Roxas returned to County High by himself.  It might have been the little ball of black opium he'd wrapped their bowl around, come to think of it.  But whatever the reason, Roxas had opened his mouth and the train of words that came out of him left Axel sitting stunned on the couch, able to do nothing but listen to him and his sudden bout of philosophy.  
  
He talked about hypocrisy and how the world was steeped in it, how people took anything and everything that they saw as 'different' and used it as a scapegoat for their own failings or to hide from the real problems.  How people taught themselves and their kids to hate and fear each other for no good reason.  He talked about how he'd been taught, growing up, that poor people were all lazy and stupid and would rather live on welfare than work for their money--how he'd believed it until he was old enough to go out in the world on his own and discover just how much bullshit that was.  He talked about hearing whispers, here and there, about people, groups of people who would go out and find a guy they figured was a fag and beat him to death.  For fun.  
  
He talked about his mom and the kind of drama she loved to create and how he hoped his sister would never learn from her example.  He talked about his dad and how his superficiality had broken down over the years and now it was like he was just getting old and tired of holding up the wealthy CEO persona.  He talked about skateboarding laws and he talked about music and some of the things he said made no sense in context but that might have been because Axel kept fading out of the conversation and then back in, hearing it in pieces whenever Roxas's voice took a forceful turn.  
  
But by the end, there was so much fire in his eyes that Axel could almost physically feel his attention being commanded.  He could feel himself falling in love again and that was better than any drug he'd ever taken and any level of mind-bending profundity that Roxas could accomplish.  Their foreheads were almost touching.  
  
"And you know what it all comes down to, Ax?  Everything we've ever known, everything we've been taught since the moment we were born--everything our parents told us, everything books and television and the radio and the movies and the entire fucking world told us--is all bullshit.  Lies.  Every form of reality we've ever been presented with is _fake_.  It's built up to look good and clean and technicolor and make you believe that everything can go like it says in the script and there'll be a happy ending.  Everyone will laugh in unison, the hero will ride into the sunset, the closing credits will roll and everything will be okay again.  But it won't.  None of that is real.  _None of it_.  And that's why I'm angry, Axel--because the entire fucking world is fake.  And the worst part is," he paused here and his chuckle was tinted with a mild kind of hysteria that made Axel frown--or maybe it was more like self-pity, but it was a broken sound and made his throat curl into a lump.  "The worst part is we _believe_ this shit.  We _want_ it to be real and we'll go so fucking far even to pretend that it _is_.  People all around me live out their lives every day steeped in this shit, all this _fake_ , and they _love_ it, they let it suck their souls out until they're brainless automatons who never question anything.  I go to school every day and that place, everyone in it, it's so fake it makes me sick.  And then I go down to the thrift store and buy up piles and piles of used romances and I read them and they make me _sick_ but I can't stop.  Because I know it's fake but I want it to be real.  I want it so bad.  I'm just like all of them, everyone else trying to make something real out of everything that's fake when it's impossible.  And I don't even know anymore how to tell the difference."  
  
Axel had a vision, just in that moment when Roxas's eyes turned down to study the floor because too much of him was bare and vulnerable just then, of Roxas standing on a sidewalk somewhere just on the outskirts of Riku's general presence.  He sat and watched Roxas build himself up, convince himself to go for it, straighten his back and square his shoulders and tell himself that things could go right.  That maybe Harlequin wasn't full of shit, after all--maybe all it really took was one little sacrifice of confession.  Maybe all it took was hope and belief and then love would conquer all things, all obstacles.  And maybe for a moment--just long enough to cross that distance and say whatever words popped into his mouth--Roxas could believe that.  
  
And for a moment, Axel could believe it, too.  That maybe love really was simple and omnipotent and magnanimous and only waited for its bearer to seize the day and give it an opportunity to make the world perfect, fill it with flowers and rainbows and orange sunsets and add a swelling soundtrack and rewrite the script so that all these two main characters would ever need was each other and nothing would ever come between them.  
  
Axel believed it, for that one instant, with his entire being.  He leaned forward a few inches and kissed Roxas.  
  
His initial thought concerning this development was:  'I should have done this years ago.'  
  
Roxas's mouth was surprisingly pliant, his lips were soft and just a little damp and parted in surprise at having another set suddenly moving against them and Axel slipped one hand around the back of Roxas's neck to keep him from escaping.  He probably didn't need to worry, though, because after a minute of slow pressing, of low smacks as their mouths caught against each other, Roxas reached up with both hands and fisted them in the shoulders of Axel's shirt (and it was the same Slayer shirt he'd been wearing two years before on the day Zexion asked him for fifty bucks, incidentally) and kissed back with an intensity that was close to desperation.  
  
Maybe he believed it, too.  
  
Axel slid his fingers into Roxas's hair, curled them there underneath the stiff parts where gel was holding it in place and wrapped his other hand around Roxas's waist to hold him there, hold himself up or--whatever.  He deepened it first, tongue darting out to taste and then tilted his head and slid inside, felt Roxas tip his head back, felt and heard the sigh in his throat.  Felt the sweat in his hair and the edges of his teeth and his hands tugging.  
  
He only stopped because he had to breathe.  He only pulled back enough that their foreheads were pressed together, their fingers were still tangled with each other and Roxas's eyes were only half-open, his face was slack and his eyes were bright and he looked like he had in the hall that day when he fell in love with--  
  
Axel backpedaled, not because of the look or the moment or the overwhelming fact that he'd just _kissed Roxas_ and that Roxas had _liked_ it but he'd just answered one of the pressing questions that had weighed on him ever since September 10, 1992 at Portland Meadows somewhere between the beginning and the end of _About a Girl_.  Maybe longer than that.  
  
And it was the reason all of this had started, to begin with.  Roxas just kept coming back.  (To him.)  
  
The epiphany was broken, unfortunately, by that look on Roxas's face vanishing and him jerking upright and to his feet and staring down at Axel with teeth bared, one finger aloft in accusation.  "You--you s-stole my first kiss!"  
  
Axel blinked.  "What, seriously?"  
  
Roxas dropped the hand pointing at him and closed his mouth, defensive scowl firmly in place and Axel grinned triumphantly.  
  
"Sweet sixteen, never been kissed."  He said it in a singsong, leaning back a little and loving how Roxas's ears turned red and how he stolidly ignored the fact.  "Oh wait--no, you're seventeen now, aren't you?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
And it was definitely the drugs, because Axel was still fading in and out and he wasn't really sure about whatever argument went on after that, he was probably being a smartass and Roxas was probably being stubborn, but when he faded back in he was kissing Roxas again.  And it was deep and slow and Roxas was in his lap, he was pressed back against the couch, his hands were sliding up and down Roxas's sides underneath his flannel and the t-shirt fabric was warm.  There was skin beneath it, Axel thought, and when he thought about it he pressed up and kissed harder and Roxas made a gasping sound and he really-- _really_ liked that.  Two years, more than that now but Axel had deliberately never thought of Roxas in a sexual way.  He stayed far away from that because he knew if he didn't, if he thought of it the idea would drive him crazy and being in love was bad enough.  
  
But now it was rushing into his head.  All these ideas.  Roxas's neck and the skin under that t-shirt and what it tasted like, the thighs pressed against his hips and the fingers digging into his shoulders and one in his hair, now--the sounds in his throat.  How this was supposed to work when they were both boys, anyway; wondering and then not caring.  
  
It was the drugs, because they dampened things like logic and inhibition and enhanced things like tactile sensation.  He trailed his lips down Roxas's throat because he wanted to try it, felt the bob under his mouth when Roxas swallowed, felt his pulse fluttering, felt the shiver in his spine.  
  
And he knew it had to stop even before Roxas said it, because the next time he faded in and out he'd have Roxas on his back on the couch and they'd be tugging each other's clothes off, grinding together slow and needy and it would be too late to stop then.  And the next time he faded in and out they'd be in his bed skin on skin and maybe they'd of figured it out, this kind of sex.  They'd be moving together anyway, sweat-slippery and Roxas would be shivering and Axel would be moaning into his neck and someone would beg for it, and it would be _way_ too late to stop then.  
  
It was the drugs.  It shouldn't happen this way.  
  
Axel planted a small kiss on the hollow of Roxas's collarbone and felt him murmur, "We should stop."  
  
So he did.  
  
The next time he faded back into focus, he was pulling on a cigarette and watching Roxas doze off on the couch, curled up in one corner of it against a red cushion that made his hair stand out gold in the hazy light.  Axel got up and found a spare blanket and Roxas's eyes opened when he was knelt down to wrap it around him.  
  
"You know," Axel said after a moment, while they just stared at each other and thought, not saying anything.  "I think you decide for yourself what's real and what isn't.  I think you decide what it is you want, and then you _make_ it real."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
And again, an hour later he was almost asleep in his bed, but suddenly Roxas's voice was filling the room and his eyes blinked open in the dark, listening to the patch of shadow on the couch.  
  
"Axel?  When I figure it out, I'll let you know."  
  
He smiled just before he fell asleep.  "Okay."  
  
  
  
  
 _  
May, 1995_  
  
The day after Axel moved out of the dorm and back into his basement for the summer, early in the evening when the sun was still bright, Roxas appeared at his door with a nervous tilt in his expression and something just slightly off about his entire presence that Axel couldn't quite identify.  His fingers flexed once around the skateboard in his right hand before he spoke.  
  
"So... you want to go get some dinner?"  
  
Axel shrugged and grabbed his jacket--yes, the same one.  "Sure."  
  
Going to the Chinese place was pretty standard anymore, once Zexion started waiting tables there--he tended to run his employee discount for them and forget to charge their drinks and the guy was just smooth enough about it that the little birdlike matriarch who ran the place never fired him for it.  He attracted all the high school girls, after all, and he never gave them discounts.  
  
Despite the normalcy of it all, though, Roxas sat too stiffly in their booth and only met his eyes for a second or two at a time.  Axel wasn't totally sure what was up with this--he wasn't the type of guy for subtlety, after all, and he didn't think about things all that hard.  He could only figure that Roxas was unhappy about something, or had something on his mind, so Axel did what he did best--filled the space between them with words.  
  
He talked about a lot of things that were inconsequential, and Zexion brought them their usual orders and between the two of them and the almond chicken Roxas relaxed into the scene and the casual banter and talking Z into sneaking them bowls of ice cream.  Axel liked the way Roxas smiled these days, small and soft but frequent smiles, like he was starting to relax a little more into life.  He'd be a senior in a few months--he'd be _eighteen_ in a few months and--well, first of all he realized it was his job as Roxas's Best Friend to plan a killer party, but with that aside he also realized that the pissy twelve-year-old brat with a skateboard he used to beat up in the skate park was almost an adult.  On the verge of entering the adult world that Axel already lived in.  
  
That was kind of cool, in its own way.  
  
When the check came, though, everything kind of collapsed around his ears.  
  
He was pulling out his wallet, and reaching for the black billfold to see what his cut was for the evening, but just as his fingers touched the leather Roxas snatched it out from under his hand.  Stuck a twenty inside quickly and snapped it shut, set it on the edge of the table for Z to collect, then stared Axel down as though daring him to argue.  
  
And, after a moment of gaping at the kid, Axel did.  "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Paying the tab."  
  
"You don't have to do that."  
  
Roxas's jaw was set, his eyes were fiery.  "Yes.  I do."  
  
"No you don't!"  Axel reached out to snatch up the billfold, but Roxas's hand slammed down on top of it to keep it in its place.  
  
He stared across the table for a moment, hard and antagonizing, then just as abruptly as the slam of his palm his gaze darted to the side, suddenly nervous.  "I'm the one who asked you out."  
  
Oh.  
  
... _Oh_.  
  
When he thought about it--which he did, finally--that thing that had been off about Roxas... it wasn't one thing, really.  It was how he was freshly showered, his hair had even been damp earlier, outside of Axel's door.  He smelled like soap, he'd noticed while they were walking to the restaurant.  His clothes were neater than usual, everything was fairly new, no holes or worn spots or fading.  His flannel even had a strangely crisp look, like maybe it had been ironed (and who the hell ironed a goddamn flannel shirt, anyway?)  His hair was perfectly constructed like it usually was in the morning before the day had its way with it and his mouth looked like it had been attacked with chapstick a few times.  
  
Roxas looked like a boy on a date.  And he was paying the check.  
  
...were they on a _date_?  How the fuck did he miss that?  
  
Axel almost asked this out loud, stopped with the words still in his throat and decided saying it out loud was the worst idea on the planet.  He swallowed instead, sat back in his seat and said, "Okay," kind of softly and apologetically--like he'd been teasing.  Roxas relaxed a little, though he still wasn't looking straight at him and went back to sipping at his Pepsi.  
  
All of his tension had chosen that moment to transfer over to Axel.  
  
Okay, shit.  They were on a date.  So, that meant he should--no, wait.  Roxas paid the check, that meant he was the guy.  So what did girls do on dates?  
  
Wait, that was fucking stupid.  He wasn't a girl.  
  
Fortunately for Axel, when his nerves were shot he tended to talk even more than usual, so after a moment of awkward silence he launched into a story about his lit professor that was amusing enough to keep them both entertained and lighten the mood back to the point where the suggestion of taking off was made lightheartedly.  He found himself silent again somewhere at the edge of downtown, noting how the sky was purple and orange and the air was warm with summer already, and Roxas was close beside him, walking in step.  Axel thought about holding his hand--and once he thought about it the idea wouldn't leave him alone.  He struggled with it, fought it off, but it came back deliberately with a firm headlock and tickled his senses until he flailed and cried uncle and gave in.  It wasn't that difficult, really.  Their hands were right next to each other anyway; he just twisted his own around, slid his fingertips along Roxas's palm and they'd almost nestled together, twined around each other but just as Axel's hand was almost settled in place, Roxas jerked his away.  
  
"Not here," he murmured, and his eyes were fixed on the sidewalk.  
  
Axel blinked at him, looked around at the empty streets where downtown gave way to residential.  "Why not?"  
  
"Someone will see."  Roxas said this with a firm conviction, and shoved his hands in his pockets.  
  
But, Axel's mind said, and that was as far as he got.  But.  
  
A little sliver of hurt flickered around in his chest for the rest of the walk, stayed there until they were tromping down the stairs to the basement door, Axel with his keys in his hand and he wondered if he was going to get a goodnight kiss.  Wondered if he had to wait for it like a girl would or if he could steal it.  He decided, after a second of deliberation, on the latter--he hadn't kissed Roxas since that night in December and he'd waited like a good boy for long enough.  So he paused, just by the door and turned around, caught Roxas around the waist with one arm and leaned in--he could smell the soap from his shower again, this close--and--  
  
Roxas pushed him away, scrambling backwards.  "Axel, I told you--"  
  
He looked at the cinderblock wall around them, the steps that dropped below ground level to access the basement directly.  Shrugged.  "No one can see us down here."  
  
But when he reached back out to pull Roxas close again he stiffened, his mouth turned down into a scowl and Axel stopped.  Stared for a long moment before retreating, turning and pushing his keys into the lock.  Roxas wouldn't be comfortable until there was a solid door between them and the world, and he figured if this was what he wanted--really and truly--then that was what he'd have to deal with.  If he wanted Roxas he'd have to accept that he could only have him in private.  
  
He held the door open and waved Roxas inside, pushed it closed quietly behind him and turned the blinds closed.  It was almost night, and the basement was dark, and he identified Roxas by the direction of his voice.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Axel murmured, and it was--because they found each other by touch, in the dark.  Twined fingers together and pressed close and kissed where no one could see.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _June, 1995  
_  
Roxas never kissed with his eyes closed.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _July, 1995_  
  
It was like a litmus test, actually--if they were kissing and Roxas's eyes were open wide, he wasn't interested in going any deeper than that.  The closer his eyes were to closed, the more amenable he was to certain other ideas.  By the time his eyes were glittering blue slits barely visible between fluttering blond eyelashes, Axel usually had a knee between his legs and his shirt off.  
  
By the time his eyes were actually closed, his breath was catching around Axel's name.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _August, 1995_  
  
Getting him to moan was another matter entirely.  
  
This was a complicated process; it involved nibbling on just the right place on his neck--a precise spot almost exactly between his earlobe and the curve where it met his shoulder; while at the same time trailing fingers softly over just the right place along the small of his back--but not in the dip of his spine, it was just to the side, below the ribs; while _also_ at the same time grinding against him at just the right angle, with just the right pressure and speed.  
  
The first time Axel accomplished this, he froze in place for a long second, listening, first, to the long, low moan Roxas was making, watching the way he was arching his back and the way his eyes fluttered closed, and then the shorter, pleading sound that followed.  Watched Roxas open his eyes and stare up at him in rapt attention, mouth open--and then with increasing annoyance as Axel remained frozen in place.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?"  Roxas asked finally, and any trace of that fantastic arching, moaning state he'd just been in was gone.  
  
Coming to his senses and despite his insane level of arousal, Axel swallowed and said, "I have to write this down."  And he did, with precise measurements and formulas and detailed instructions.  
  
Roxas kissed him with his eyes wide open for a few weeks after that, but it gave him time to memorize his notes, and call the housing office at the community college to change his dorm request to single.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _September, 1995_  
  
Their first attempt at sex had been nothing if not disastrous, but it wasn't quite as bad as the night he gave Roxas his birthday present shut in his bedroom, with the party going on downstairs still, loud music and too much alcohol and no one would even notice they were missing at this point.  It wasn't as bad, see--because Axel had thought of something new to coax Roxas back into the idea of giving penetration another chance.  And it was easy enough to get him onto the bed and get his pants down and Axel was used to the taste of him in his mouth, these days.  He figured he was getting pretty good at it, too, although Roxas was tipsy and agreeable to just about anything at this point, but that worked to his advantage.  
  
So there they were; Axel had a pretty good rhythm going and Roxas's hands were tangled in his hair and Axel pushed two fingers inside him and rubbed slowly and Roxas--fucking _loved_ it.  He was _writhing_ , there on his back, head tossing from side to side and _moaning_ without the necessity of that little trick and his eyes were closed tight and he _shuddered_ and his hips jerked like he couldn't decide if he liked the mouth or the fingers better.  He begged, little _more, more, more_ gasps and Axel had never seen anything like it, had never pushed him so far into the depths of sex and need and it was wonderful, and he was so close and at this rate Axel was going to come just listening to him--  
  
And that, of course, was when Roxas's dad walked in.  
  
The thing was, they'd been so careful up to that point--they wouldn't have even thrown the party at Roxas's house if he wasn't absolutely sure that his dad wasn't going to be there and wasn't going to show up unexpectedly.  
  
But he had, and he caught them in the act, and after being kicked out with the rest of the party-goers and walking away from the house, hearing the beginnings of the fight that would follow already brewing between Roxas and his dad, Axel was almost positive that it was over.  Roxas wanted secrecy and it was no longer a secret; the only solace left was the fact that as of that very day Roxas was free and legal and his dad couldn't bring down the hammer of statutory on Axel's head in retaliation.  
  
They'd been so careful.  He tried so hard--when Roxas's kid sister came down from Seattle to visit he made sure she never caught them or suspected anything.  Which was hard enough, because that girl was damn observant.  On days when he wasn't working his summer job and could meet up with the others at the skate park or the Tilt he did his level best not to stare at Roxas or at the reigning King and Queen of Perfect-Coupledom, otherwise known as Pence and Olette.  It wasn't like they sat and made out with each other in front of everyone or anything like that--it was little things, light touches, quick looks, private smiles.  And sometimes Axel wished he could just.. whatever, _lean_ against Roxas or something, just to take in his warmth and smell and make a little connection with him.  But he never did, because that was too intimate.  Boys didn't show affection for each other like that.  
  
He hated it, every second of it, but when the day was over and it was just the two of them, then everything was _perfect_.  And now it was over.  
  
Everyone else dispersed in minutes for fear of the cops coming to break it up.  Axel walked to the end of the driveway and sat there just outside the gate, cross-legged on the asphalt, and started chain smoking.  He thought the wrenching pain running through his body might really have something to do with his heart breaking, this time.  
  
An hour later he was out of cigarettes and he couldn't tell what time it was, probably too early to be properly late anymore, and that was when the gate opened.  He didn't quite process this at first, he thought maybe there was a car coming through and figured it could just run him down.  But it occurred to him that there were no headlights, so after a minute he turned his head just enough to look back and Roxas was standing there, backpack slung over his shoulder and skateboard in one hand.  
  
"I needed to escape," he said simply, letting the gate slide closed on its electric mechanism behind him.  "I don't--" he started, then paused, and there was something almost shy and uncertain in his expression for a moment.  "Can I stay with you?"  
  
Axel said the only thing he could say sometimes, in the face of Roxas.  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  


_November, 1995_  
  
School, Axel had discovered, was unbelievably easier and more rewarding when he was actually interested in the classes he was going to, and that made college infinitesimally more bearable.  His computer, however, didn't bear it very well, and he noted this while whacking the little 486 gently on the side in a general attempt to urge it to not freeze up (and yes, that was _totally_ one of the methods he'd learned in his networking classes).  It wheezed softly after a moment and started running again, and Axel resumed his essay and prayed that the machine would last long enough for him to save it and retrieve the disk before it spontaneously combusted or something.

  
As the night wore on, though, the computer coughed and hacked and thwarted his efforts at finishing his homework at every possible turn, and by the time it was both late and dark he was about ready to give up and try for sleep instead.  But...  
  
He had the sound of Roxas climbing through his window memorized by heart.  
  
The skateboard always came first, and he'd learned to not leave anything under the window for fear of it landing there with a clatter--following that was the whisk of fabric over the sill, a grunt as his weight shifted, and finally the pad of two well-worn All-Stars hitting the floor.  Axel smiled at the computer screen without needing to look over.  Just waiting.  
  
Roxas paused by his side, just an arm's reach away.  "Why don't we ever cuddle?"  
  
Axel jerked his head to the side then, staring at Roxas and looking him up and down to assure he hadn't been injured recently--more out of habit than anything, but maybe he'd hit his head.  Or that kid he'd gone to live with after the housing office banned him from Axel's room was giving him ideas.  _Changing_ him.  
  
Maybe for the better.  
  
"I mean, we really don't," Roxas attempted to explain, tugging at the tails of his flannel and meeting his eyes.  "Not for the sake of cuddling, anyway."  
  
Axel licked his lips, considered this for a long minute and watched how Roxas frowned a little, like he was worried Axel wouldn't want to, or would think it was silly.  After that moment, though, he pushed his chair back and held out one arm.  "Come here."  
  
Somehow, it was easier to do his homework with Roxas in his lap, arms settled around his shoulders and face nuzzled against his neck.  He fell asleep later on after they relocated to the beanbag, Roxas curled tight against his side, head pillowed in the crook of his arm, Axel holding a textbook open with one hand and a highlighter with another, meeting just about at Roxas's hip when he needed to mark out a line.  
  
He was pretty sure Roxas was asleep at least, his breath was slow and even although he wasn't making that purr-snore noise (which wasn't necessarily a bad thing) so hearing his voice puff against a fold of his t-shirt (the Slayer one, yet again) was enough to startle him to begin with.  But--  
  
"I love you."  
  
The highlighter clattered and rolled away across the linoleum.  Axel didn't move a muscle for a full minute, brain reassuring itself that yes, he had heard that right.  And no, Roxas wasn't looking at him and was in fact tensing up by the second and he was pretty sure he'd put Metallica on the stereo but all he could hear was Kurt Cobain singing the words 'I do' over and over.  
  
"Yeah," he started and had to swallow to keep going.  "I know.  I love you, too."  
  
Roxas made a humming noise, pressed his forehead to Axel's shoulder to hide his face and curled closer, half-sprawled over him.  Axel set the book aside and ruffled his hair, closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of the body beside him and inhaled everything that he attributed to Roxas.  
  
He supposed this was supposed to be one of those moments with golden sunsets and swelling soundtracks, but it was really just them snuggled together on a cheap beanbag in a dorm room on a Sunday night, being awkward and happy.  
  
"Don't sing," Roxas murmured into his shirt, and there was a smile in his voice.  "You sing off-key."  
  
Axel laughed.


	20. The Day I Tried to Live

**20:  The Day I Tried to Live**

 

On Tuesday afternoon Riku found Sora in a state of advanced despondence.  
  
He'd been walking to the gym through the courtyard that separated it from the main hall and somewhere along the way he paused on the sidewalk to stare at a lump of red and khaki that had collapsed near the corner on the building's far side.  The lump had a familiar air about it, and when it stirred and he identified brown spikes in amongst the red and khaki he started walking again at a brisker pace, hurrying across the grass to drop his backpack next to Sora's own discarded bag against the wall, then dropped himself to sit beside him.  
  
Sora was slumping, head on his knees and arms dangling, skates hanging from his neck in a strangely dejected way.  He wasn't quite wilting the way he had been the week before when he and Roxas were having their fight, but he was uncomfortably motionless and stared out from his knees and dangling arms to the fenced-in hockey court, a few early birds weaving around on their skates and practicing passes.  He didn't move when Riku arrived at his side, just continued his slumping and staring.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Sora made a quiet sound that was kind of like a response.  
  
Riku let a breath rush out of his lungs, curled his fingers in the grass and only considered for a second--because honestly, there was something seriously wrong with the universe if you felt like you couldn't even comfort your boyfriend in public.  He muttered, "Fuck it," under his breath, scooted over with both palms flat on the ground and settled an arm around Sora's shoulders, leaning in against his side and settling his forehead against the brown spikes.  
  
"Hey," he murmured again.  
  
"PDA no way!"  
  
"Get a room!"  
  
Sora's eyes closed for a moment, slow sigh as he relaxed into the touch and then opened again, turning to the side to meet Riku's.  He was smiling somewhere behind his arms and it was only visible by the way the corners of his eyes turned up.  "Hey."  
  
"You really miss it, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  Sora's voice was muffled by his sleeves and his eyes dropped closed again, leaning into the crook of Riku's arm and somewhere behind him someone on the sidewalk to the gym was snickering but it didn't seem to matter much.  Like they had a warm little bubble around them and nothing else quite existed.  "There's a game tonight."  
  
"This is bullshit, you know.  Suspending you for two weeks, not even letting you practice."  Riku made a face, noted that Sora wasn't looking at him anyway and he let it go after a moment, nuzzling further into Sora's hair.  Neither moved for several minutes and that was fine; it was warm, Sora smelled like cinnamon and dandruff shampoo and all the tension had drained out of him; he wasn't happy but he was content and the fact that Riku had brought about that contentment made his heart thrum in his chest.  
  
Sora was the first to stir, arms shifting, head lifting slightly so his nose was resting atop the red fabric of his sleeve.  "You're gonna be late."  
  
Riku figured, actually, that he probably already was--figured the coach was going to have some words with him later on but at the moment that didn't seem very important.  "I guess so."  
  
"You're not going, are you?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You don't have to ditch practice for me, Riku."  
  
"Don't have to," Riku echoed, arms tight for a moment and nuzzling Sora's hair, inhaling one last time before releasing him and climbing to his feet.  "Going to anyway."  
  
He grabbed Sora's backpack along with his own and stood there holding it, looking down at the lump of red and khaki and brown spikes until it finally stirred and unfolded and accepted the bag, slinging it over one shoulder with the same depressing lethargy.  Once he was largely upright and possibly mobile, Riku reached over and tangled their hands together.  
  
"We're going out."  He said the words with a definite tilt, tugging Sora along as punctuation to the statement, subtle proof that they were in fact _going_ and that no, Sora did not have an option.  Because being given one he would probably prefer to continue being despondent and watching the hockey game he couldn't play or even warm the bench for.  
  
He thought about the captain and the almost-tussle in the parking lot back in September, but that just pissed him off and he decided to stop.  
  
They could have taken his car, he supposed, but he felt like walking and Sora didn't complain, just held onto his hand and followed along.  By the time they'd cut through the auxiliary field and broke through the bushes onto a sidewalk heading downtown Sora's steps had lightened considerably.  A few blocks into the busy center of the city and he was walking with a little bounce and swung their hands slightly between them.  At one intersection he abruptly broke the pleasant silence surrounding them to bump his shoulder against Riku and gesture towards a building on the next block.  
  
"We should go there to eat sometime.  It's really good."  
  
Riku blinked in the direction he was pointing.  "Where?"  
  
"Right there!"  Sora waved his finger indignantly, stumbling when Riku pushed him out into the crosswalk as the lights changed.  "The glass door right in the middle."  
  
"There's a restaurant there?"  
  
" _Yes_."  Sora said the word with an insistence that suggested he didn't think Riku believed him--and Riku wasn't entirely sure that he did, the glass door looked more like it lead to nowhere, or possibly to some shady little business, although there was an old faded sign above it depicting a star in flaking gold paint, no words to explain it.  
  
Riku watched it idly as they continued down the block, sidestepping some late-afternoon shoppers and failing to notice how they balked and frowned when they realized he and Sora were holding hands.  They were leaving a trail of shock and disgust behind them but the idea just made him laugh a little, and when Sora blinked at him for it he just shrugged and shouldered open the door to the Tilt.  
  
The air inside the arcade was dark and buzzing with electric noise.  Sora stood within it for a moment, unwinding his skates from around his neck and turning his head slowly from one side to the other, taking in the spread of the place, the rows of upright consoles, one and two man, rapid clicking of buttons and the sharper snap of shooters, annoying buzzer of those basketball games with the moving backboard, thump and clamber of skee-ball over in the corner by the flickering lights of the pinball machines.  
  
There was an eternal second in there, somewhere, while shadows and flashes of multicolored lights washed over him, when Riku couldn't look away.  
  
"Hey, Sora!"  
  
The voice behind the counter jerked Riku out of his lovestruck reverie (and honestly, he should probably stop doing that, especially in public--didn't need the rest of the world knowing he was a complete girl, too) and Sora was already grinning and hurrying over to the counter to bump knuckles with the guy behind it.  He looked familiar, but Riku had to squint a moment in the dark--oh yeah.  That guy.  The one Olette was dating.  
  
...how did Sora know him?  
  
"Sup, Riku."  The guy gave him an equal acknowledgment, same gesture, same welcome smile and Riku thought that was pretty decent of him, considering they didn't really know each other and he and Sora apparently did.  "Skipping practice?"  
  
"Sora's suspended," Riku offered before the boy in question had the opportunity to start feeling sorry for himself again.  "Thought we'd play some air hockey instead."  
  
"Good call."  The guy accepted his five and counted out some tokens without pausing for breath, turning his attention back to Sora.  "Hey, you're coming out with Rox again this weekend, right?  Some of the old crew should be at the park this time, with the holiday and everything they're not so busy."  He tapped the stack of tokens even and slid them across the counter over the sound of Sora's 'oh' of agreement, metal raking against glass, and his dark eyes flickered over to Riku with that same smile, nothing fake about it but it's not like he really knew, anyway.  "You should come too, Riku."  
  
It was an innocent suggestion, and he might have considered it if the words 'the old crew' had not emerged and taken front and center stage in the space between them.  The old crew meant Roxas's old crew.  "Thanks, but I'll pass."  
  
The guy blinked at him, quick flutter of lashes to punctuate the confusion that fell over his round features, just for a moment before he shrugged politely.  "Okay, man."  
  
Riku remembered to thank him after collecting the tokens before they wandered away, and when Sora called, "Later, Pence," over his shoulder Riku lifted one hand to snap his fingers in frustration.  
  
" _That_ was his name."  
  
Sora was quiet until they claimed a table, then leaned against it with his hands braced on the edge while Riku retrieved the puck and counted out some tokens, thoughtful and slightly unhappy tilt to his mouth.  "Riku--"  
  
"I'm sorry if that sounded rude."  He straightened, settling the paddles and puck out on the table's center without meeting Sora's gaze.  "But I really don't want--"  
  
"I'd like it if you were there."  It was unfair how simple Sora's voice made it sound.  How he looked up and Sora was smiling at him and it still made little balls of fluff whiz around his insides--made him want to give in and say okay.  "It'd be nice."  
  
Riku swallowed hard and let out a breath.  "Maybe another weekend."  
  
Nothing further was said on the subject while the table powered up and they took their respective positions on either side of it.  Sora looked disappointed, eyebrows drawn down into an expression closer to the despondence he'd been wearing earlier.  Less than a minute into the game, though, he was wearing a fond smirk, which made sense as it immediately followed the puck shooting into Riku's goal box.  
  
Riku frowned.  
  
"Man, you _suck_ ," Sora chuckled softly.  
  
"Shut up.  I'm paying, and all this is for your entertainment, anyway."  
  
"If you wanted to entertain me you could at least pose a challenge."  
  
Riku retrieved the puck and tossed it back onto the table, shifting position to better defend his goal.  "That was a warm-up shot.  Try again."  
  
Ten minutes later the score was 5-0, Sora was positively beaming and Riku was scowling at his own paddle, wondering how it continued to fail him.  (He's emasculating you,) his not-conscience taunted, somewhere back behind the scowling and wondering how the hell Sora was that good at every form of hockey known to man, anyway.  (And you _like_ it.)  
  
Do not, Riku countered, and figured that train of thought had better stop.  Things became complicated once you started arguing with yourself.  
  
Sora looked good like this, he thought--spark of competition in his eyes and an unapologetic grin on his face, everything fast and immediate and buzzing electric like the arcade surrounding them.  It reminded him of the first time he saw Sora, back in August on the hockey court, absorbed in his own little game, all light and energy.  And remembering that he remembered, too, how he'd felt in that moment.  How fast and hard he fell.  
  
"Riku."  
  
He blinked, reverie breaking late yet again and Sora was peering at him curiously, embarrassed and flattered and confused by the staring all at once.  When Riku finally uttered an intelligent, "Huh?" he pointed down, indicating Riku's hand and the immobile paddle and the puck residing once again inside his goal box.  Riku sighed and withdrew it, grumbling.  
  
"You distract too easy.  No wonder you swim."  Sora cackled, batting his paddle back and forth across the table.  "Nothing to see but water."  
  
"At least I'm less likely to sustain a head injury."  Riku settled the puck back on the table, shifting its position to find the best angle that might give him an advantage.  
  
Across the table, Sora was smiling absently, one hand on the paddle and the other fiddling idly with his hair, right at that spot on his forehead--even the scab had to be gone by now.  Riku felt something in his stomach warming at the sight, heard his non-conscience admonishing his girlishness yet again, and promptly leaned over the table and took a quick shot off the side rail.  
  
Sora blinked at the clatter in his goal box, head turning from side to side for a moment before resettling on the table, then Riku.  
  
Riku offered him a smirk.  "Who's distracted?"  
  
"Oh, you _bitch_."  Sora grinned and his eyes narrowed to blue slits, glittering dangerously across the table.  "You asked for it."  
  
He had never really expected to win, anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
They walked back towards the dormitory on the opposite side of the road, mostly so Riku could pause at the glass door beneath the wooden star sign and peer in--and there was, indeed, a restaurant of some sort inside.  
  
A few paces ahead of him, Sora turned to amble backwards and watch him with a grin, hands folded behind his head.  "Told you."  
  
"Yeah, sure, but how the hell did you find it?  I never even noticed it was here before, and I've lived here all my life."  Riku reached out to steady him before he backed into a lamppost and shoved his hands in his pockets as they continued walking.  The afternoon was getting cooler, and the sun would set soon.  
  
"Axel bought me dinner there last night."  
  
Riku stopped mid-step and hovered there like an idiot for a moment, Sora's voice replaying through his head a few times before congealing into memory and actual thought.  Once it did, he lowered his foot to the ground and stood on the sidewalk until Sora realized he'd stopped walking again and turned around.  
  
He couldn't really explain what it was about the whole concept that made him angry.  More than anything, it was probably jealousy; otherwise it was just irrational, just a means by which a teenager could be dramatic for no real reason at all.  "You just know everyone these days, don't you?"  
  
Sora made this cute, exasperated noise like a catch of air in his throat, shook his head.  "He just wanted to talk to me, Riku.  Why is that such a big deal?"  
  
"You forgot what I told you already?"  Riku started walking again, abruptly, pushed past Sora and swatted at the crosswalk button.  "Sophomore year?  Roxas and his stupid little game?  You know, Axel was the one egging him on the whole time.  Thought it was a fucking riot."  
  
"Riku..."  
  
"So I guess you know all of his little gang now, don't you?  That's nice."  The ball was rolling now, chaos in the tumble of his thoughts and thoughts that crashed into his mouth and Riku didn't bother to try and stop it.  "Did I ever tell you, Sora?  I had friends once, too.  Lots of them, just like Roxas does."  The light still wasn't changing; he made a face at the little red hand and slammed his fist on the button again, felt Sora jump a little at his side.  Felt his voice tightening into knots.  "Know what I have now?  Annoying drama club groupies, and _you_."  
  
The crosswalk corner was silent for a long moment, a few cars streaming past and the red hand still denying the pedestrians their passage.  After the long moment was over, Sora shifted a little, looking up from his toes and scratching the back of his head nervously with one hand, attention settled to one side.  "Riku... did you ever think that maybe... you misinterpreted something?"  
  
Riku felt his lips going dry along with his mouth, but his tongue never made it out to wet them.  It fell behind his teeth instead, grit together in an attempt at patience.  " _Excuse me_?"  
  
"It's just..."  Sora's voice trailed off and he made that noise again, arms flopping down to his sides with a soft slap of fabric and flesh.  "I don't know!  Didn't Roxas ever come and find you alone?"  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"Exactly what I'm asking, Riku!"  Sora's hands went back up over his head in a mad flail then settled in his hair, curling and tugging while his teeth grit in a frustrated scowl.  He looked cute even mad, Riku thought, but this probably wasn't the time to think such things.  "If he did, don't you think there was a reason?  Don't you think that just _maybe_ you overreacted?"  
  
Riku paused for a minute, and thought about it.  
  
He thought about a lot of things for that minute, not the least of which were spray-paint on lockers and telephones that never rang and the echoes of jeering laughter and whispers and the sound of skateboard wheels on a sidewalk.  But at the end of all this thought, the only conclusion he could come to was, "You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Sora scowled, and it wasn't very cute anymore.  "How can I when you won't tell me?"  
  
"I've already told you everything there is to know!"  Riku slammed his palm on the crosswalk button yet again and looked up just in time to see the green stick figure switch over to the blinking red hand.  He'd missed it, the chance to cross, and that just added fuel to the growing ball of anger in his gut.  And that's probably why he dropped his hands to his sides and bared his teeth at the ground and growled, "Whose side are you on, anyway?"  
  
There was another short silence that lasted until the hand stopped blinking, and at that point Sora's face had fallen into a serious neutrality.  "I'm not on anyone's side, Riku.  I just want to know what happened, and the more I find out the more I think that all of this was a little misunderstanding that ended up blown out of proportion."  
  
"Did you ever think that maybe Roxas is feeding you bullshit?"  
  
Sora's mouth flattened into a line.  "No."  
  
"So you think I am."  
  
"No, Riku, I--dammit!"  Sora stomped one foot in a momentary childish fit and turned away, arms folded and head tilted downwards.  And this time, when the light switched over to the little green man crossing the road, Riku stepped forward and Sora followed him sedately, a pace or two behind, arms still folded and staring at the ground.  
  
After the first block, Riku's hackles were still prickling on his neck and he wondered just what the hell Roxas was up to, anyway.  Whether he'd enlisted all his buddies into helping him steal Sora away from him--one last kick in the balls after all that torment sophomore year, all they had to do was destroy the one bit of happiness he'd managed to find for himself.  It was a fucking conspiracy, they were all in on it, and he was starting to seriously doubt Roxas's insistence that he didn't want Sora for himself after that little display in the drama club room.  Whatever Sora said, the impression clearly laid out right there was that of a self-hating closet-case.  Oh, his motivations were less than pure, that much was certain.  Conspiracy, that's what it was.  
  
After the second block, his conspiracy theory was starting to sound kind of ridiculous even in his head.  No one really put that much time and thought into making someone else miserable, did they?  Roxas was a little shit but even he had to have grown out of that by now; maybe he had his own version of events but Riku wasn't buying this 'misunderstanding' theory.  Sora could figure what the truth was all he wanted but the bottom line was that he wasn't there.  He didn't see it or experience it and he had no right telling Riku that he was overreacting or misinterpreting or whatever.  
  
After the third block he figured he was being an ass and that he'd had no business telling Sora off or accusing him of taking sides when he was just trying to help or at least get a grasp on the situation.  Riku didn't own him, after all, he had the right to be friends with whomever he wanted and all that.  He was just feeling jealous and hurt and left out that Sora was suddenly tight with all these other people, and he was probably being unreasonable and... yeah, overreacting a little.  Just a little.  
  
At the edge of the dormitory parking lot he stopped walking.  Turned a little to the side, pushed his hair behind his ear with one hand and stared at the ground until he could see the toes of Sora's shoes.  "I... didn't really mean all that, you know?"  
  
"Then you should say what you mean."  Sora's words were harsh but his voice was soft.  His feet shuffled a little closer.  "You keep thinking I'm going to change my mind."  
  
Riku swallowed hard at the lump that appeared in his throat, looked up a little through his bangs; Sora was watching him intently, arms still folded.  He shrugged a little and could even feel in his muscles how pathetic that was.  "You might."  
  
The corners of Sora's mouth turned down in a way that wasn't cute, or scary, and he had the idle thought that he'd wanted to take Sora out to cheer him up--and what an incredible job you've done with that, Riku.  He was graced with that look for maybe a few seconds and then Sora was walking away, up to the dorm steps and Riku felt the sudden, striking terror in his stomach that somehow if he let Sora walk up those stairs and through that door that somehow this would all be over.  So after standing like a cement parking block for a moment he suddenly broke into a sprint after him, calling his name once and grabbing Sora's hand just before his foot landed on that first step.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Sora let out a breath in response and pulled him into a soft hug, chin in the crook of his shoulder and arms around his waist, a long moment of warmth and the smell of cinnamon and dandruff shampoo; Riku pressed his hands against Sora's back and figured he didn't deserve a kiss anyway.  A quick squeeze and release and it was over.  "It's okay."  Sora murmured it with one hand still warm on his shoulder.  "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Riku watched him turn and disappear inside before turning himself to trek back to the school and collect his car, hands in his pockets because it was getting colder, now.  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxas, despite previous nocturnal encounters to the contrary, was in fact quite fond of sleeping.  Particularly in the area where it involved dreaming.  He didn't experience so many of the 'normal' dreams that most people would relate, like flying or falling, and he always dreamed in color, but he did have dreams about running--and fighting, sometimes, as well the occasional at-school-in-your-underwear dream.  He had the odd nightmare, usually involving dinosaurs and/or giant kittens.  And girls.  Most of the time, though, his dreams were pleasant, if odd, and if they involved Axel in any way they were certain to be both entertaining and enjoyable.  
  
The dream he was currently enjoying involved Axel attempting to solve a Rubik's cube while discussing a Calvin and Hobbs strip he'd read that didn't really sound anything like Calvin and Hobbs, although Roxas wasn't paying much attention as Axel was sitting on his pants and refused to move so Roxas could get dressed.  Just as his dream-self had decided that tackling Axel was the best solution to this problem, particularly as their surroundings were starting to mutate into a public park--something jostled him.  
  
His dream-self looked around in confusion and wondered if they were having a dream-earthquake, and while wondering this the jostling continued and just as he was about to move--as strange things like this in his dreams were usually a cue to start running--a hand appeared out of thin air and grabbed his shoulder.  
  
Sora's voice said, "Wake up."  
  
Roxas blinked, and the park and his pants and Axel and the Rubik's cube melted away and he was blinking instead at a fold of green-striped blanket, and the hand on his shoulder was very real.  He yawned, absently, reaching up to rub at his eyes.  "Sora," he addressed the hand informally without really acknowledging it, "what are you doing in my bed?"  
  
"So I was thinking," Sora's voice continued without answering his question, and the sound was coming from somewhere near his knees where a warm weight was mussing his blankets, "about the difference between things that are real and things that are fake.  And I figure that if something is real, or you want it to be real, then you have to stand up and take possession of it, right?  Because it can never be real unless you own it.  Unless you say so, because otherwise it's just an idea that never solidified."  He paused for a moment as though to feel the air and reassess his own words, shuffling so that the blankets tugged beneath him.  "You think so?"  
  
Roxas stifled a yawn and pushed up onto his elbows, half-rolled onto his back so he could look down the length of the bed at its uninvited occupant.  Blinked and squinted, because seriously, ten seconds ago he'd been dead asleep.  "Yeah, that's great, Sora," he murmured after a moment of reprocessing the entire conversation, and even then he wasn't sure that he was keeping up.  His voice came out thick and a bit whiny.  "What time is it?"  
  
But once again the kid failed totally to respond to Roxas's very reasonable question.  Sora wasn't even looking at him, he was sitting cross-legged and leaning on his elbows, staring down intently at a nondescript fold of blanket and tangling his fingers together.  "See, I figure that's why we have all these big ceremonies and celebrations to mark important places in life--birthdays, anniversaries, graduations--they're like acknowledgments to make everything real.  I think that's why people get married, because they want to stand up in front of all their friends and family and God and say yeah, I'm in love with this person."  He licked his lips and finally looked up, and it was too dark to really see his expression but Roxas thought there was something very excited and a little bit scared in the look.  "It's made real that way, so everyone knows and no one can doubt."  
  
For a long minute, or two or three, possibly, the top bunk was silent.  Sora remained poised and waiting for some kind of response, and Roxas remained blinking sleep away from his eyes and frowning in confusion at the space between them.  
  
Finally, after a long enough stretch of silence that he was afraid he'd fall back asleep if he let it go on any longer, Roxas let out a sigh and reached up to scratch at his hair.  "Sora, if you're going to wake me up in the middle of the night to spout philosophy at me, you can't expect me to have anything intelligent to say about it."  
  
"You get what I'm talking about, though, right?"  
  
"Yeah, sure.  Whatever."  
  
"Okay, then."  Sora nodded once, slowly and decisively, hands clasped in his lap.  "I'm gonna do it."  
  
"Okay," Roxas echoed, hoping this meant that he could go back to sleep, and then he blinked again to keep his eyes open as Sora moved abruptly, swinging over the side rail to drop back down on the floor.  "Wait, _what_?"  
  
"I'm gonna do it."  
  
Roxas groaned softly and flopped back onto his pillow, hand over his eyes and felt the bed jostling somewhere below, felt the entire conversation draining back out of his ears like his brains had melted into goo and trickled away.  It did feel rather like that, actually.  "Do _what_ , Sora?"  
  
"Exactly what I said."  
  
He gave up at that point, sleep fogging over his vision and drifted off with a sense of confusion that made his dreams bounce around inanely.  When he woke the next morning, he would only remember something about weddings and the very real sense that Sora was a deeper thinker than anyone gave him credit for.  
  
  
  
  
  
The Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving dawned clear and bright, smudges of white clouds in a crystal blue sky and the sun golden-yellow as it beamed down at the world.  It was so clear and beautiful, in fact, like the most perfect of summer mornings, that Sora was absolutely positive it had no business being this fucking cold.  He considered this, fingers wrapped in the cuffs of his shirt and breath streaming out white behind him as he skated down the sidewalk with Roxas in tow, and thought about what he would have been willing to do and put up with if it meant he was in southern California at that precise moment, rather than freezing solid out in the middle of the supposed "desert" of Oregon.  
  
"Don't be such a baby," Roxas muttered as they approached the doors and he flipped his skateboard up into one hand, effortless grace and not a shiver to be seen.  "It's only about thirty-five degrees.  That's nothing, wait till it drops to single digits for a few weeks."  
  
"I wanna go home."  Sora made the statement with a grim determination, arms folding across his chest so he could stuff his hands underneath them.  
  
The girl-entity was thankfully absent from the entry hall, which was good as Sora really didn't have time to waste this morning if he wanted his plan to work.  The girls would eat away minutes, and he might not make it to Riku's locker before the bell rang.  He'd tried to leave the dorm early, but a particular blond skater had spent the majority of the morning complaining about his sleep being interrupted, which he seemed to remember clearly despite not remembering a word of what Sora had to say at the time.  
  
He was going to have to try harder to get through to Roxas, he figured.  
  
The halls were crowded and buzzing with activity, the student body already in vacation mode despite still having half a day of classes to attend.  Sora pushed his locker shut and navigated down the senior hall, a sea of winter coats and bright knitted scarves and excited chattering; the whispering and staring had died down just a bit, although he felt the back of his neck prickle with the sensation of eyes following him, heard a few jeers in the distance.  Roxas was at his side most mornings now, though, skateboard tucked under one arm and sipping a bottle of orange juice, and no one bothered either of them--girl-entity aside.  
  
Riku's locker had been stripped of its graffiti decor sometime shortly after it was discovered back when all this began--was it only two weeks ago?  Sora wet his lips, hands slipping into his pockets as he considered it.  Seemed so much longer than that, a short eternity; things had been so different, then.  Roxas had been a non-entity and Riku had been an entity seen only from behind.  Sora had been a non-invasive kind of kid, sticking out the last year before graduation.  There were no piles of mental notes back then, no couch and no philosophical embodiments sitting on it wondering at him and his life and what the crap was going on.  
  
He'd figured out one thing, though.  One very important thing.  
  
When Riku looked up to see him approaching he looked down again quickly, fall of hair shielding his face for a moment before he tried again, tentative tilt of the head, something vulnerably shy and uncertain in the movements and the look.  There were a lot of things about Riku that weren't quite real--his confidence, most of the time.  His attitude, and his temper.  The real things slipped out when you least expected them, like that little "I love you" in the car.  
  
Sora smiled just a little, because that meant _it's okay, I'm not mad_ and it assured that Riku relaxed a bit, leaning back to close his locker and look at him full in the face, turning a bit to rest against the metal surface with one shoulder, backpack strap between his fingers.  He stared down at it for a moment, fingers fiddling while Sora came to a stop in front of him and Roxas dropped back to lean against someone else's locker a few feet away, randomly glaring at people and nursing his juice bottle.  When Riku looked up, he was still uncertain and his eyes still moved around too much, but he plunged ahead anyway.  "Look, about last night--"  
  
"Riku."  Sora waited until the sound of his name made him stop completely, fingers going still on the strap of canvas and attention focusing on Sora, before licking his lips and continuing.  "I have something important to tell you."  
  
And it should be noted that despite how perfectly even and definite his voice was, Sora's insides were twisting around themselves in alarming ways and his throat was closing on itself and he was still shivering but it probably wasn't from the cold anymore and his brain was noting just exactly how many people were in the general vicinity and how many more were in the hallway as a whole and was he _really_ going to do this?  _Seriously_?  Right here?  
  
He took a deep breath, because Riku was poised to say something more and if he did Sora didn't think he could keep the nerve to continue.  So he swallowed hard, balled his hands into fists and squared his shoulders and said (rather more loudly than was really necessary but that served to get the attention of several people around them), "I'm not going to change my mind."  
  
Then before he had time to rethink any of this, he grabbed Riku by the shoulders and kissed him.  
  
"PDA no--woah."  
  
"Get a roo--holy _shit_."  
  
It wasn't a simple peck, either--he'd decided early on in formulation of this plan that anything simple or brief just wouldn't do.  It started as a fast, hard press while he got his bearings, balancing on tiptoes because Riku was too damn tall, anyway, finding the right angle to fit their bodies together comfortably and waiting for Riku to get past the shock and respond.  
  
It would have to be long, and slow.  He'd decided this.  There couldn't be any doubt.  
  
After a moment, when he sighed a little through his nose and tilted his head, Riku relaxed and his arms settled around his back, one hand sliding up to curl in Sora's hair and guide the tip of his head, resettle the kiss into something low and soft.  Drawing him closer, Sora's fingers on his neck and chest, then down and around his back to hold them both upright.  He took the initiative to deepen it, press of tongue against Riku's lips until he gave in, and sometime around then the rest of the world simply vanished into a void surrounding them, no sight or sound or movement, just Riku warm and close, hands and lips and tongue and teeth--just the feel of it, thrum of pulse in his chest and quivering excited-terrified flutter of organs in his stomach.  
  
Somewhere behind all this, in his mental space of nonexistence, Fake and Ownership exchanged a meaningful look, and the latter leaned forward to tap against the TV screen.  _Hey man, this might not be the time or place and all, but it's our professional opinion that you're kind of stupidly in love._  
  
Mmm, the rest of Sora's mind thought, slipping deeper and closer into the idea and feel of Riku.  That could be.  
  
 _You realize you're in the middle of the senior hall, right?_  
  
He might have, but it didn't seem very important.  
  
According to school legend, it took three janitors, five teachers, two vice-principals, a secretary and the student resource officer to detach Sora and Riku from each other and bring the untoward public display of affection to a halt.  This was due largely to a distinct lack of help from Roxas, who spat orange juice all over the passerby in his immediate area at the time Sora initiated the kiss, and proceeded from there to drop to the floor and laugh his ass off for the duration.  The entire hallway ground to a silent halt in a way that some would reminisce later was precisely like what had happened years prior when Riku was unexpectedly outed to the student body at large.  
  
It would be related, for years afterwards, in tones of awe, shock, disgust and, occasionally, admiration.


	21. You Don't Know How It Feels

**21:  You Don't Know How It Feels**  
  
Originally, Roxas was apprehended as a matter of routine, as being at the scene of the crime automatically bore the suggestion that he had something to do with it--and in most cases, this was absolutely true.  In this instance, however, he was merely a witness, and although several _other_ witnesses had left the scene wearing his orange juice, he had not in fact been a perpetrator or instigator and once the administration realized this they reluctantly let him go.  
  
Roxas, however, was never quite finished with things that involved the principal's office and detention slips and permanent records.  So, having been set free by a resource officer with an expression that was not entirely sure this was a good idea (and he was _so_ right) he immediately made his way out to the grounds to take matters into his own hands.  
  
Riku's parents had been called, and they were sequestered together in the principal's office to discuss the "recent rash of negative activity" surrounding their son.  Sora, meanwhile, was last seen being led to the library by the aide who usually oversaw detention (he and Roxas were well acquainted), which left him in the courtyard wondering who he could bother first, and which would yield the most amusing results.  
  
He ended up standing on his skateboard to peer over the edge of the window to the principal's office--being fully familiar with the interior, he knew that Vandervargen himself would be seated just inside and to the right, facing away, and that a bookshelf partially obscured his view of this particular window.  Looking in, the majority of what he could see was Riku, slouched in a chair with his arms folded, turned just so to face the principal's desk and the edges of his parents seated together were only just visible to his side.  Roxas smirked to himself and straightened, leaning against the outside sill and waving to get Riku's attention.  
  
After a minute or so of this, Riku's eyes darted over to take in his presence and then quickly retreated without acknowledgment.  Roxas scowled and was about to jump down and go find Sora when he noticed Riku's hand moving under his elbow where his arms were folded.  At first it looked like he was fidgeting, or maybe popping his knuckles, but then--R... E... ah--no wait, that was an S--  
  
Goddammit, he always knew that sign language class was going to come back and bite him in the ass someday.  
  
He waved his arms to get Riku to stop and start over, which he did with a minor eyeroll that still left the rest of him immobile and ostensibly absorbed in whatever the principal was going on about inside.  Slowed down a little and repeated himself while Roxas mumbled the letters under his breath.  
  
 _Where's Sora?_  
  
He didn't remember ever learning the sign for 'detention', despite the fact that it would have been extremely relevant to his life, at least.  He settled for pointing in the general direction of the library and hoping Riku got the gist.  
  
More flickering fingers, and they were too fast and Roxas had to wave his hands and get Riku to start over again--another eyeroll, another failure to acknowledge.  
  
 _Tell him I love him._  
  
"What am I, a candy gram?"  Roxas stood there with his arms up in exasperation, but Riku only shot him a look from the corner of his eyes.  He grumbled to himself (something about guys who were too pretty for their own damn good and took advanced ASL classes just to be overachievers) and hopped off the skateboard onto the grass, snatching it up before racing across the courtyard to find another window.  
  
Sora was hunched over an old graffiti-carved desk conveniently near one of the library's narrow windows, but it took almost five minutes for Roxas to get his attention, even ignoring propriety and discretion to jump up and down waving his arms madly before the kid finally shifted from his woe-is-me posture and noticed that something was happening.  Goddamn Sky-boy.  
  
Roxas made a gesture back the way he came and mouthed the word 'Riku' in as slow and exaggerated a manner as possible, waited for Sora's eyebrows and hair to perk up at the mention before continuing.  A few hand gestures--mouth, hands over heart, point through the window at the boy inside.  _\--says he loves you._  
  
Sora blinked.  
  
He considered collapsing backwards into the grass in defeat, shook himself and his head and rolled his eyes skyward for a moment before straightening to try again.  _Riku_.  Grand hand gesture back towards the principal's office.  _Says_.  Point to his mouth.  _He loves_.  Arms crossed over his chest like snuggling something close.  _You_.  Another final, stabbing point of a finger through the window.  
  
Sora blinked again, and then his face broke into the biggest, dorkiest grin Roxas had ever seen.  Well, wasn't that the cutest fucking thing in the world?  
  
After the minute or so it took for the sugar to dissipate Sora looked around the room quickly, assuring that no one had noticed his particular attention to the window, then gestured in quick small movements, tiny imitation of what Roxas had done.  
  
 _Tell him I love him, too._  
  
"Oh for--"  Roxas tripped backwards, righted himself and snatched up his skateboard, head shaking and grumbling at the ground, stalking across the courtyard and back towards the main entrance, the senior hall and his bathroom--because this was fucking ridiculous.  He'd come out here for his own amusement, because he couldn't keep his fingers out of trouble even when he was only related to it by proxy.  He was not passing sweet nothings from window to window via charades and the ASL alphabet, goddammit.  
  
He paused there with his hand on the metal door handle, fingers around the catch and stopped.  Wavered there on the edge of going in and going back with that stupid-sweet grin on Sora's face replaying in his head.  Fingers curled around the skateboard, fingers curled around the handle and the catch until it clicked open but the door didn't move.  
  
Roxas let the door go, snarled at himself in exasperation and stormed back across the grass, dropped his skateboard on the ground in front of the window to the principal's office and stood on it, arms folded and waiting until Riku deigned to notice his presence.  
  
He'd already pulled up all the gestures in his mind's eye, had them lined up and worked out and the second Riku's eyes darted to the side to look at him he moved, fingers flying rapidly in front of him, quick spell-out of Sora's name followed by the message, short movements across his chest.  
  
 _Sora says he loves you, too._  
  
He left when the smile was just starting to spread across Riku's face, but he could imagine it curling his cheeks into dimples and crinkling his eyes and he'd look just as silly and sappy as Sora did wearing that expression.  Fucking ridiculous lovestruck morons.  Roxas shouldered the doors open, stalked down the hall with the skateboard under his arm and pulled a sucker out of his pocket, and wished Axel was there so he could shoulder him into some lockers.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sora, your principal called me again today."  
  
Sora figured, really, that far too many conversations with his mom throughout the course of his lifetime had begun with that phrase, and he was hoping that at some point that particular trend would come to a halt.  In this instance, he chose to groan into the mouthpiece of the telephone and flop down onto his bed, backpack and skates discarded unceremoniously on the linoleum as the phone had begun ringing merrily the moment he stepped into the room.  
  
"Well, at least I wasn't fighting this time!"  
  
"I know, he told me what happened."  Her voice on the line was muffled for a moment, sound of papers whisking against each other in the background.  "And I told him I didn't understand what the problem was."  
  
Sora grinned at her tone of voice, long-suffering and matter-of-fact, and pushed one of Roxas's feet out of the way so he could sit up.  "Thanks, mom."  
  
"Well, honestly, if they think teenagers aren't going to kiss each other once in a while they've got another think coming."  More papers, more shuffling, a sigh before she continued.  "He said you had detention next week, so just make sure you go to it, okay?"  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"I'm going to--oh, hold on a minute, sweetheart, I'll be right back."  The phone clicked to a dead mute in his ear.  Sora sighed and left it to rest on his shoulder and reached over to poke the star emblem on Roxas's ankle with one finger.  
  
"Stop distracting me."  
  
"I'm not distracting you, your feet are in my face."  
  
Ultimately, there had been no good place to put the television once they got it into the room, so it ended up on top of Roxas's wardrobe, wedged between the wood and the ceiling, which meant the only practical place to actually utilize the Super Nintendo hooked up to it was on Roxas's bunk.  Sora suspected he'd worked it out that way on purpose.  
  
He jerked at the controller in his hand, leaning to one side, tongue pressed at the corner of his mouth as his character danced around on the TV screen.  "Goddammit, Sora, if you make me lose to Scorpion again I _will_ kick your ass."  
  
"If you didn't always play as Liu Kang you wouldn't be having these problems."  
  
"Shut."  Another jerk at the controller.  "Up."  
  
Ten seconds or so later, however, Roxas's character sprite was suffering a fatality, Roxas himself was roaring and tossing his controller on the bed and Sora was being pounced enthusiastically and beaten with a pillow.  The telephone receiver rolled away from this rather dejectedly, lucky that it hadn't been unintentionally disconnected.  
  
Sora squawked and rolled to avoid the assault, difficult in the narrow space of bed he had to maneuver in and Roxas was somewhat lacking in the whole 'mercy' department.  Eventually, though, Sora had a grasp on the pillow and was struggling to free himself from a headlock while ineffectively whacking Roxas in the knees, and he said, "Shouldn't you be packing a bag or something?"  
  
Roxas shifted his grip with one hand and grabbed for the pillow.  "Why?"  
  
"You're gonna go spend Thanksgiving with your dad, right?"  
  
The headlock disappeared abruptly and Roxas yanked the pillow out of his hands, shoving it in his face neatly before retreating, climbing back up to the top bunk to find the controller.  "No."  
  
Sora considered that while removing the pillow from his face, holding it in his lap for a moment and staring at the fluffy white surface before tossing it aside and crawling to the edge of the mattress, climbing up with one hand on the upper railing to peer over the side of Roxas's bunk.  He was lounging on his side now, elbow propping him up as he scrolled through the prep screens.  
  
"So you're just going to stay here alone?"  
  
Roxas shrugged like Sora had posed a ridiculous and unnecessary question.  "Yeah."  
  
The phone's handset buzzed in a way that sounded rather like his mother's voice and Sora hurried back down to grab it.  "Hey, yeah I'm here.  Sorry."  
  
"That's fine.  I was going to say before, I'm just now getting out of here so it'll be a couple of hours.  I'm going to stop at the apartment to drop off my things before I come to pick you up, so I'll call you then, okay?  Just be ready to go."  
  
"Sure Mom.  Um."  He paused for a moment, listening to the sound of the video game fight restarting, the click of thumbs on a controller.  "Hey, d'you think we could use some company?"  
  
Silence for a moment, sound of a purse snapping closed.  "How do you mean?"  
  
"Well.  My roommate, see--he's kind of a stubborn brat and thinks he's gonna just spend the holiday alone here at the dorm.  And I think that's kind of uncool, so."  He shrugged, despite being on the telephone but his mom would know it.  There was a sound emitting from the top bunk that sounded rather like annoyed grumbling.  
  
He could hear his mom's pursed lips along with the hum over the line, the little frown she got when she was uncertain.  "I suppose."  And that was mom-speak for 'I'm not really thrilled with this idea but I'll give it a shot on the grounds of making you, my beloved offspring, happy.'    
  
Sora grinned.  "Thanks, Mom."  
  
"You're welcome, sweetheart.  I'll see you in a few hours."  
  
He felt the ice blue of eyes following him when he stood to replace the phone on its cradle, the TV screen now showing the game set to pause.  After a few minutes of tidying the room, not looking up to the top bunk to see what kind of expression Roxas was wearing, Sora heard a short huff and the click of buttons as the game started up.  
  
Somewhere amongst that, he noted with a private smile, were the muttered words, "Yeah, whatever," which was Roxas-speak for 'thanks, man, you totally made my day.'  
  
  
  
  
  
On the morning of Thanksgiving, 1995, Roxas woke up amid the gray half-light of a winter dawn, uncertain of where exactly he was and how he had gotten there.  He didn't feel elevated enough to be in his own bunk, and was too alone under the covers to be in Axel's bed.  For several minutes he sighed and shifted and tugged the blankets over his face to block out the annoying gray light, and somewhere amongst all this he caught the smell of new, barely-used carpet and remembered that he was sleeping on a cushion on Sora's bedroom floor.  Sora's uncomfortably blank bedroom, vaguely lived-in, much of it still in brown and white cardboard boxes.  
  
Mornings like this, Roxas had a tradition of returning to sleep directly, ignoring time and daylight entirely in favor of snoozing for as long as possible.  As fate would have it, however, just as he was comfortably resettled the inevitable occurred, and his bladder began screaming in discomfort.  
  
Goddamn bodily functions.  
  
The first thing he had to remember was where Sora's bedroom door was in relation to his makeshift bed, and then remember where the bathroom was in relation to Sora's bedroom.  This was accomplished with minimal stumbling, and he only ran into a closed door he didn't realize was latched once.  
  
After completing the bathroom necessities, however, he took a wrong turn in the hall, and rather than returning to the bedroom to collapse back onto his cushion he found himself blinking in the light from the kitchen.  The unexpected glow in his eyes brought him to an abrupt halt, and after blinking the spots away he found himself watching something curious.  
  
Sora's mom--Katherine (not Kathy, she said, nicknames weren't her thing), nice lady, pretty in a normal way, level-headed in a way her son usually wasn't--was standing by the sofa table in the living room, just illuminated in the angle of light from the kitchen and staring down at the pile of Sora's wallet, keys and pager that he'd left scattered there.  The wallet, in particular, had been left carelessly half-open, and now as he watched she plucked up something that was falling out of it, held it up for study.  A Polaroid picture, it looked like.  
  
And she stood there and she stared at it, and her face dropped further and further into this _look_.  Confusion--uncertainty, mostly.  A little pain, a little fear, but more than anything she just looked lost, like the world had spun over onto its head and she didn't know what to do that would make it right itself again.  That look was out of place on a mom's face--any parents', really--they were supposed to know what to do, always.  That was their job--having a solution, saving the day, making everything better again.  
  
Katherine had a look that said she couldn't make anything better, and for a long minute he stood there watching her watch the little square Polaroid and wondering why she looked exactly like his dad had on his eighteenth birthday.  
  
Eventually, though, his body betrayed him yet again, this time by yawning hugely and drawing attention to himself.  She looked up sharply, photo still in her hand and relaxed, folding her arms and smiling just a little.  That look had vanished.  "Up early?"  
  
Roxas grunted, noting how cleverly she'd hidden her little snoopfest.  "Nah.  Got lost."  
  
"In an apartment?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She was amused by him in the same way that Sora was, from time to time.  "Well, so long as you're up you can help me dress the turkey."  
  
He almost missed it, her slipping the photo back underneath Sora's wallet; he made a mental note to give it a look later, slip it back inside so Sora didn't know they'd peeked.  Roxas smiled a little, like it was their secret.  
  
"Then," she continued, rounding the breakfast bar to enter the kitchen proper, hand on the fridge, "we can make cocoa and watch the parade until my son decides to rejoin the living."  
  
Roxas decided he liked her.  
  
  
  
  
  
Dressing the turkey involved, in fact, prepping a marinade for the small turkey breast Katherine bought.  Everything they cooked that day seemed to be in miniature, just enough for three people to eat in a sitting.  Maybe a little more, because it was Thanksgiving, and extra pie so he and Sora could take it home and eat it at midnight.  It occurred to Roxas, eventually, that there would be no one at the apartment to eat the leftovers.  There was no point in making a huge meal that would only go to waste.  
  
There was a patently uncomfortable moment early in the meal, sometime after Sora had bounced around the living room like a little kid when Santa pulled up in his sleigh to end the Macy's parade, sometime before the little turkey breast was carved, when Katherine had folded her napkin neatly in her lap, scooted up to the table and beamed at them both before asking what they were thankful for this year.  
  
Sora, being privy to the tradition, immediately rattled off a series of things that his mom would have expected him to say, many of them involving the move from California and the reasons that necessitated it, and she had turned just so to watch Roxas during this, assuring herself that he knew the story and being comforted by the fact, ultimately.  
  
Roxas--after a long moment of torturous silence in which he stared at the dish of cranberry sauce and scowled and both Sora and his mother waited and watched him patiently--straightened, resolutely met Sora's eyes across the top of their meal and said in absolute and sincere seriousness,  
  
"I'm glad I met you."  
  
The silence continued for a moment after that, at which point Roxas's scowl turned self-deprecating and he amended, "Even though you're a pansy-ass momma's boy."  
  
That had nearly earned him a face-full of mashed potatoes, but Sora's mom quickly brought any attempts at a food-fight to a halt.  
  
After dinner, Katherine retreated to the kitchen with the dishes, humming softly to herself while washing up in a way Roxas didn't think he'd ever seen any mom anywhere do before.  Sora's pager had started buzzing away on the sofa table and he rushed to grab it, then rushed to the house phone to return the call.  It was probably Riku, Roxas figured--and that was when he remembered the photo.  
  
With Sora distracted by his boyfriend and Katherine distracted by the dishes (strangely), there was no one to notice Roxas sneaking over to the sofa table and retrieving the little photograph hidden under Sora's wallet.  
  
A few seconds later he carefully tucked it back inside the wallet, and arranged it back on the table in what he figured was a Sora-like way.  Then he went to the front closet, grabbed his jacket and the cell phone out of the pocket, and slipped unnoticed across the living room to the sliding-glass door that lead to the balcony.  
  
The air outside was darkening, cold and crisp and smelled of winter and snow that hadn't fallen yet.  His breath puffed white in the air and he zipped the jacket closed quickly, fingers curled as he flipped the phone open, thumbed the antenna up and hovered just over the keypad, nearly dialing Axel out of sheer habit.  But--  
  
 _You made a promise._  
  
He shivered, scrolled through his stored numbers, squinting at the monochrome screen in the dim light and dropped down to sit huddled on the cold wood balcony floor.  Held the phone to his ear and listened to it dial.  
  
Listened to it ring, and ring, and ring--and who was he kidding, she knew his number and wasn't going to answer.  Not if what Naminé said was right, not even if his dad had said to call.  
  
There was a click over the line, then a soft voice, almost southern but not quite and laced with the eternally present tinge of needless emotion.  "Roxas?"  
  
"Mom."  
  
"Oh my god."  Her voice took on that cadence, that tremulous quality that meant she was on the verge of a tirade, of drowning herself in the drama of the moment whether it actually existed or not.  "Oh my _god_."  
  
" _Mom_ \--"  
  
"Do you have _any idea_ ," she pressed forward, and yes it was definitely coming, that tirade, "how terrified I have been for the last two months?  My little boy disowns his father and leaves the family home and does he call me _once_ in all this time?"  
  
"It's not the 'family home', you divorced him, remember?" Roxas growled behind his teeth, rubbed his forehead and wondered if she'd even bother listening.  "And I didn't disown him."  
  
"He told me that's what you said."  
  
"But I didn't _mean_ \--"  
  
"Then you should say what you mean."  Her voice was firm and definite, for once, the almost-southern lilt disappearing for a moment while she expounded on something true.  "You said what you said and he believed it."  
  
He thought about the picture in Sora's wallet.  About his father standing in the marble foyer, not doing anything but standing, while he shoved clothing into a backpack and stormed out the front door, solid oak and gilded brass and slammed it behind him.  
  
"What are we supposed to think, Roxas?  With a display like that and then you just _disappear_.  Where have you been?  What have you been doing?  Who have you been with?  What kind of a person are you growing up to be if--"  
  
"You wouldn't know from where you are, would you?"  The air was cold, the words puffed and froze in the air.  "If you gave a fuck about any of that, why didn't you stay with him?"  
  
The phone in his ear was silent for a long moment, then she sighed quietly.  "That isn't fair."  
  
"IT'S NOT FAIR TO ME!"  Roxas swallowed, jerked his head towards the sliding glass doors to assure he hadn't attracted the attention of the people inside.  Looked back down at the toes of his shoes and swallowed.  "I want to talk to Nami."  
  
"Naminé has been very upset by all of this.  I've--"  
  
"Oh bullshit, Mom.  She's not like you and you know it."  
  
Another sigh, click of teeth over the line, a train of space for thought.  "Just tell me."  Spoken slowly, with a mild caution.  "How you are."  
  
Roxas swallowed.  "I'm fine.  I'm staying at the dorms with a friend."  
  
"Still going to school?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How are your grades?"  
  
"They're fine."  
  
"You'll graduate in May?"  
  
" _Yes_ , Mom."  
  
"Are you still seeing that boy?"  
  
He stared straight ahead for a long moment, watched the white of breath in the air and a sparkle or two of something floating down from the sky.  "Yeah."  
  
"If you need someone to talk to, I know a very good specialist in the north end, I could--"  
  
"I'm fine, Mom."  He echoed it, tilted his head back to see where the sky had turned dark gray as it approached night, little specks of whiteness scattered across it.  "I'm fine."  
  
Another long pause, another sigh like a shrug of shoulders.  "All right, then.  I wish you would call more often."  
  
Roxas reached out, turned his palm upward and let a flake settle on his hand.  Watched it dissolve into a little speck of water, perfect and round against his skin.  "Happy Thanksgiving."  
  
  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later the snow was falling steadily, sticking to his shoulders and in the fringe of hair over his eyes, his fingers were numb and he dialed the number for the house line for no real reason.  Imagined the ring echoing around in the foyer like it did, no one there to answer because the staff always had holidays off.  
  
It rang seven times, and he counted thirteen snowflakes in his bangs, and then his father's voice said, "Hello?" and his throat closed around itself.  
  
"I didn't mean it," Roxas said before he could change his mind and go back to being angry and resentful because it was everyone else's fault that the world wasn't the way he wanted it to be.  "I take it back."  
  
For a minute it was quiet in the way the world is only quiet when it's snowing.  Everything distant is muffled, everything close is crisp but brief, the universe exists only as it surrounds you in sparkling white, damp flakes on your nose and the chill of air that makes you feel warmer under your skin.  
  
Then he thought he could hear the nod on the other end of the line.  A snowfield-quiet, "Okay."  
  
He ended the call a moment later, because that was as far as he could get for one day.  Tucked the cell and his hands under his arms to warm them up and watched the little bit of slush accumulating on his toes.  
  
When Roxas stood up to go inside, Sora was standing just beyond the sliding glass doors.  He opened them, whir of metal on a track and the house receiver was in Sora's hand.  His eyes were staring wide, past the blond on the balcony and into the dark sky.  
  
Roxas cleared his throat, blinked and wondered why his eyelashes were so wet.  Said, unnecessarily, "It's snowing."  
  
The telephone slid to the floor with a carpeted _thunk_ and Sora started forward like he was hypnotized, barely seeing Roxas as he pushed past, stocking feet and a t-shirt and the kid was going to die of pneumonia his first winter outside of Cali, for sure.  
  
Sora stood at the railing, though, stared out at the world and how it was slowly turning white, tilted his head back and smiled and flinched a bit when the flakes hit his face.  Laughing.  
  
"We totally have to build a snowman!"  Sora declared this with all the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning, bright and ecstatic, reaching out to catch flakes with his hands and shivering, drawing them back to wipe away the wetness on his knees.  "I need my gloves!  You know how to build a snowman, right?  I've never done it before!"  He turned to Roxas then, nothing but delight on his face, no trace of even being aware of how cold it was.  
  
He laughed softly, somewhere behind the coat's high collar.  "It's barely started, Sora.  There isn't enough snow yet."  
  
Slowly, like water draining in a sink, Sora's expression melted away.  Blankness, first, and then concern.  "Were you... were you crying?"  
  
"No."  Roxas said the word first, automatically, because no, he had not been crying, even if he _had_ been.  Then he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, cleared the lump out of his throat and stepped backwards, towards the open door.  "Come on, man, you're gonna freeze to death."  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora peered over the edge of his blankets into the gloom of his bedroom, hulking boxes stacked in one corner, generic blinds across the window that left lines of light across the walls, and the lump of cushion and blankets and boy just to the side near the door.  It wasn't quite the same as the bunkbeds, and he couldn't nudge the other awake from this distance.  He had to settle for a stage whisper, pulling the sheets back away from his mouth and under his chin.  
  
"Hey, Roxas."  
  
Shuffle of blankets, soft grunt.  
  
" _Roxas!_ "  
  
"What?"  
  
"You called your mom, right?"  
  
He figured, although he wasn't entirely sure that explained why Roxas had been sitting on the balcony in the snow with his phone for the better part of an hour.  Crying, at some point, whatever he might have said about it.  
  
"Yeah."  There was a moment in there when Sora thought he might continue, elaborate--something, anything that might have explained that moment out there in the snow.  As it was, though, he inevitably changed the subject.  "I'm going to Axel's tomorrow night.  Told him I would."  
  
Sora wondered, for a moment, if he should push the issue, but the last time he tried it just ended explosively, and his mom was sleeping.  He sighed instead, rolled onto his back.  "That's cool, Riku wanted to do something anyway."  
  
"You'll come meet us at the skate park on Saturday, right?  Around noon is good."  
  
 "We're gonna skate in the snow?"  
  
Soft laugh, something like a shrug.  "Snow might not still be here.  And if it is... well.  Yeah."  
  
Roxas said it in such an obvious, _well of-fucking-course_ kind of way that Sora automatically grinned at the ceiling, warmth replacing the nagging doubt somewhere in the pit of his stomach, planted cold there around the unsettling moment he'd seen tear-tracks on Roxas's cheeks.  Something had gone right, though, despite all that, so maybe he didn't need to worry after all.  
  
"G'night man."  
  
"Night, Rox."  
  
Sora liked the way you couldn't really hear the snow falling, but you still knew it was.  Like a negative sound; it made everything quiet.  Close, and warm.


	22. Nothing Else Matters

**22: Nothing Else Matters**

There is a subtle art to successfully sneaking out of one's house without one's family noticing--and this doesn't even involve _actual_ sneaking out (you know, the 'slip out the window in the middle of the night and get back before anyone comes to wake you up' kind, which is its own, separate skill set) but rather just getting from one's room to the front door without being waylaid and bombarded with questions.

Riku, it should be noted, was never much of an artist.

His day had started out quite pleasant. It began with swiping two oranges, what remained of his mom's leftover pumpkin pie and half a quart of milk and proceeding to consume said stolen goods with Sora, in his car in the parking lot behind the dormitory. After breakfast they drove out to the rodeo grounds and hunted for loose change under the stands, and after barely finding enough for two rounds of air hockey at the Tilt they gave up the hunt and made out for a while instead. Sora tasted like oranges and his nose was cold, and the way the sunlight fell through the bleachers in long thin bars that crossed over his body and glinted off the thin layer of snow beneath was hypnotizing.

Risa fed them both hot leftover turkey sandwiches for lunch, complete with sliced stuffing and cranberry sauce. She then proceeded to inform Riku that he had chores to do and left him in the driveway with a snow shovel while she drove Sora home.

Riku decided, very shortly thereafter, that there ought to be some sort of law against doing chores during a school holiday.

Just after dinner (more leftovers, his mom always made _way_ too much food for Thanksgiving) though, the phone rang and Sora's voice vibrated warm against his ear. And it said, "Roxas is going out for the night," followed by a pause and the low, wet sound of Sora licking his lips. "You should come over."

For a moment, there, Riku suffered horribly from being a teenage boy as all the blood, sensation and attention in his entire body redirected itself to a point right between his legs. After that moment passed and he took a few deep breaths and thought pointedly of things that did not involve Sora inviting him over at night for some alone-time, Riku said, "Okay," in a voice that might have been a little higher than normal.

Of course, saying was one thing and actually doing was another.

He made it through the process of piling a change of clothes and toothbrush into his backpack without anyone knocking on the door to ask why he was suddenly so quiet. He made it all the way from his bedroom to the kitchen, checked to make sure the path to the front door was clear, and quickly grabbed his car keys off the counter.

And yet still, somehow, when he turned around there stood his mother, arms folded and eyebrows cocked, despite the fact that he was absolutely positive she'd been all the way back in the utility room sorting laundry only a second before.

"Mom," he murmured, cautiously pocketing the keys.

"Riku," she echoed--and at that point by all rights a few tumbleweeds should have blown across the space of kitchen tile between them. "Where are you going?"

"Ah." Think, Riku, think. Tell her the truth, you'll be in less trouble later. "Over to Sora's."

Risa's face brightened instantly, betraying her approval of the boy and Riku pumped a silent mental fist of victory. "Oh, I see. Well, that's fine with me--when will you be back?"

"Ah." Riku paused, wracked his brain, assured the keys were still safely in his pocket and shifted the backpack on his shoulder. "To... morrow?"

Her reaction was incremental and involved, largely, her eyebrows going up... and up... and up. Finally she pursed her lips, blinked in something that was like an abbreviated nod and said, "Well, just be sure to use protection."

"Mom!"

Risa studied her son's reaction critically, shrugged a bit and amended, "All right, then, make sure _he_ uses protection."

"Mo--MOM! For--"

"I'm not judging you, Riku, it's a matter of preference."

"I am SO not having this conversation with you." Riku punctuated this with one hand in the air, snatched the keys out of his pocket (now that he knew they wouldn't be confiscated) and marched past her to the living room, vision tunneling in on the front door and escape. Five steps. Four. Three.

"Remember to use plenty of lubricant, Riku, the first time can be painful."

He gave up and ran.

The drive to Sora's house was a haze of keeping his eyes fixed on the road and both hands on the wheel, and trying to not think too hard about the taste of Sora's skin or the sound of his breath hitching and any of various things that might happen overnight in the dark alone in Sora's room. There were roughly twenty-seven balls of fluff buzzing around in his stomach that made everything from his sternum down feel rather squiggly and uncertain. He practiced breathing at stoplights.

He arrived at the dormitory just in time to see Roxas crash out of the tree and into the snow, pick himself up and dust off the sparkling, powdery whiteness like he'd totally meant to do that, then catch the skateboard Sora tossed down to him.

He spotted Riku when he turned, offered a feral grin and a chuckle before shoving hands in his pockets and shuffling off through the snow towards the cleared parts of the sidewalk. Breath misting over his shoulder. "'Bout fucking time."

Riku ignored him, demanded that his knees not give out, and started climbing.

 

 

It wasn't the best position in the world to end up in, Sora figured, and that probably had more to do with the fact that he slept in a narrow bunkbed than anything else. Still, it was awkward, his legs were dangling, and Riku was still mostly on the floor, and Sora figured being on your knees on linoleum was probably not the most comfortable thing in the world.

He thought about these things, wondered why his mind was worried about them, and pushed his tongue into Riku's mouth.

Sora could feel his muscles through the two layers of t-shirt, and had an idea for a minute about removing that. A curiosity and a half-thought about Riku after swim practice and his bare back with water trickling down it and how it might feel under his palms. One hand following the line of his spine down, holding on to keep from sliding off the bed and the other was curled in the front of Riku's collar, fingers circling the bump of his collarbone and Riku made a soft noise into his mouth, hands rubbing restlessly at his hips.

He wanted this. He was pretty sure. The kissing and the touching, at least. Definitely.

He wasn't sure how they moved, or who started it, but someone did and there was a shift and a tug and his heel banged against the bedframe and Riku muttered something unintelligible against his lips and then his shoulders hit the mattress, Riku's weight suddenly heavy and warm and pressing him down everywhere, Riku's fingers were tangled in his hair and stroking and Sora was pretty sure his feet were still on the floor, knees somewhere at the mattress's edge, and that Sora himself was really too high on the bed for this to continue evenly if Riku slid back onto his knees. Which he was going to, eventually--linoleum and traction weren't really friends.

Sora thought this, then the thought disappeared because Riku moved, just slightly, and pressed tight against Sora like this it rubbed _everywhere_ , dancing little shots of sensation through all his nerves and Sora shivered, made a little, involuntary sound that in turn made Riku break the kiss and gasp. He thought he heard a murmured question like, "Okay?" but Riku didn't give him time to come up with an answer, another stroke of fingers through his hair and then a hand slid under the hem of his shirt, light touches, felt like his skin was melting into it, Riku nuzzling his neck and nosing aside the hemp necklace he was still wearing and planting little damp kisses up towards his ear.

He didn't think he'd ever felt quite this helpless, or at least not quite in this way--he curled his fingers in the back of Riku's t-shirt, two fistfulls of fabric and tugged. He wanted that off, irrationally, wanted it and felt his breath stutter when Riku found that place on his neck, when his hand slid a little higher. Sora didn't intend to do any of this, really, but the mouth and the hand and his body just _reacted_. Head fell back. Back arched, pressed up into it.

Riku _moaned_.

Riku's hand slid out of his hair, down the side of his face and fingers brushed over his mouth and when did he start breathing that hard, anyway? And then everything was shifting, Riku's weight and his palms sliding, one down to his thigh now and the other pushing his shirt further up. Small, wet press of a kiss against his ribs, Riku noting the fading, yellowish bruise still gracing Sora's solar plexus, noting it and then skirting it, nose and hair brushing a trail along his skin. Pausing at the softer skin over his belly, damp breath and fingertips and ohgod his tongue, shiver of muscle that made it all feel too much and not at all. Riku's hand sliding back up along his thigh, thumb on the inside.

Sora didn't know where to put his hands anymore, he couldn't reach Riku's shirt now and his hair was slick and slippery (and tugging it would be painful, really). And Riku's hand was still moving up, into the curve where his leg met his body, light press through the khaki fabric and the muscles underneath the touch jumped. His hips jerked, just a little, another involuntary sound slid out of his throat and Riku's hand moved again--

Ohgod. Sora's fingers curled in the blanket beneath him, and _tugged_.

It was just his palm, just a slow rub but ohgodyes it made his breath stutter, made his back arch, made him grind up into the touch like he couldn't get enough of it and Riku was still kissing his stomach, lips tracing around his navel and fingers brushing over the skin just above his waistband and dammit, he could _feel_ that smirk on his lips through the kisses, could feel how it grew when he opened his mouth to say something and moaned instead and that just made Riku's hand press a little harder, move a little faster.

It was good, oh fuck it was good but maybe it wasn't quite right, like this. Maybe not this fast, maybe not quite this way. He shivered again, felt his hips jerk again and buried his hands in the blanket, tried to say something about this and he ended up arching his neck, head dropping back and it came out as, " _Riku_ ," in a pleading whine, felt the moan in response against his stomach. Ohgod. No, that wasn't working, everything was muddled and all his nerves were tingling, shot through with pleasure and the pulse throbbing in his ears sounded suspiciously like the word _more_ repeating itself over and over while the part of his mind that was enjoying this agreed wholeheartedly and the rest of it insisted that this activity come to a halt for reassessment.

"Ah," his voice said, slow breath and a moan and Riku made a sound almost like a growl there, right against his hipbone and his hand squeezed just a bit. "Ohgod. S-stop!"

And to both his utter delight and dismay, Riku stopped.

He pulled back, leaned up on his elbows and waited for Sora to catch his breath, staring up at him with a flushed and puzzled expression like he couldn't fathom what he might have been doing wrong. Sora rubbed his forehead, still shivering and breath still coming fast and his body was informing him quite seriously that it was _not_ pleased with this stopping business.

After a moment Riku licked his lips, shot his gaze to the side nervously and asked, "Are you okay?"

Sora sputtered and thumped his head back against the mattress. "I can't think."

Riku considered that with a chuckle, nerves and uncertainty melting away and he climbed further up the bed, along Sora's body, still cautiously not touching, and his voice dropped into a pleasant purr. "That means we're doing it right."

"Wait." Sora sat up abruptly, dizzy for a moment at the sudden change in position and put one hand on Riku's chest, pushing him back. Pushed them both back, all the way upright until Riku was sitting on his knees on the floor and Sora was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You want to stop?" Riku asked it quietly, watching him through his sliver fringe of bangs.

"No, no, just--" Sora wasn't sure where to put his hands again, let them hover in the air for a minute before settling on Riku's shoulders, then withdrawing onto his lap. He couldn't distill it, what was wrong or what he wanted. "Just not that way."

Riku stared at him for a long time, tongue against his lower lip before finally shifting on his knees, resettling for comfort, and clearing his throat. "Why don't you like being on your back?"

Sora swallowed, felt his insides squirming around in discomfort, particularly at that patient look Riku was giving him and the memory of touch and drying spit on his skin. "I--why are you so intent on putting me there?"

That patient look remained there, eyebrows drawing up behind his bangs and even in the dark like this the streetlights through the window caught in his hair. "Because I want to make you feel good. And I kind of thought I was doing a pretty good job of that just now."

"Well." Well, yeah, Sora thought--his knees still felt kind of rubbery, in fact. "Yeah, but--"

"But?"

Sora set his mouth in a scowl, turned his attention to one side so he didn't have to meet that look anymore. "I don't want to be the girl."

The silence in the room was broken at one point by the sound of a faucet somewhere turning on and off, the creak of protesting pipes. At the end of it, Riku blinked the wide look of disbelief off his face and said in a way that was very careful not to be patronizing, "I'm not sure if you've um, noticed, but this isn't a heterosexual relationship. There is no girl. There's you, and me, and it doesn't matter what position we're in. That's not what this is about."

"Riku." Sora let out a huff, first, shoulders slumping forward and picked at the blanket covering the edge of the bed. Still not quite meeting his stare. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean, and I'm telling you that you're making it into a bigger deal than it is. We're not even--" Riku paused, and Sora could have sworn he saw something like a blush across his cheeks although it was dark and Riku would probably deny it to the death. His face turned to the side for a moment, one hand reaching up to push his bangs back. "I wasn't really planning on doing _that_ , in particular, when I came over here. I just thought we could, you know, fool around. Have some fun. Wake up together."

Somewhere another faucet turned on and off, and after that stretch of silence Sora chuckled softly. "Wake up together?"

"Shut up." Riku pushed his hair back again and failed to look at him.

"You know what? Never mind. I'm clearly not the girl here."

"Sora."

"Hey." Sora tilted his head to the side, lower lip caught between his teeth and peered at Riku until he looked back up. Licked his lips. "So um. Take your shirt off."

Riku's gaze flickered over his face, checking the expression for confirmation that yes, he was serious, then reached down to grab the hem of his tee and the thermal beneath it. Safety pins winked in the glint of streetlight and then disappeared as fabric doubled over. Sora watched the movement intently, how Riku's stomach pulled in when his arms raised over his head, how the fabric caught around his armpits and how the muscles in his shoulders flexed when his arms dropped back down, peeling the long sleeves off his forearms before the shirts were tossed aside. Hemp bracelets still around his right wrist. Waistband of his boxers showing above his jeans.

"Better?"

There was a distinct lack of control, here--Sora could feel himself staring, felt how his eyes roamed from Riku's shoulders to chest to stomach and how his mouth had fallen open at some point and that his fingers had curled around the edge of the mattress and despite any commands his brain sent out he couldn't seem to stop any of this. He heard Riku chuckle around the time he was appreciating the lines of muscle over his stomach and felt his movement like a shiver, hands settling on either side of his hips and sinking into the bed as he raised up on his knees to nuzzle Sora's chin.

It occurred to Sora, at that point, that he could _touch_ if he wanted to, and furthermore that they'd both probably enjoy that, so he started off with his hands on Riku's arms, felt the flex of muscle under his palms when he shifted, head tilting to plant a few soft kisses just underneath Sora's jaw. And that was distracting, but he focused, allowed a shiver, slid his hands up to Riku's shoulders and down. Palms flat, pads of his fingers tracing, thumbs dragging through the trail of coarser hair down the middle. Gym training reciting muscle groups off in his head, skin tingling from the slow touch and the puff of air against his neck. Curl of fingers around his hips and Riku's quiet groan, shudder of muscles when Sora's hands finally settled on either side of his navel, fingers brushing.

"Lay back." Riku's voice was plaintive, rough and breathless.

Sora swallowed, felt his insides twist around in fear and burn in anticipation at the same time and that was a strange sensation. Riku was moving, though, so he scrambled backwards on his elbows, slammed his heel against the bedframe once and barely noticed the pain, wriggled sideways when Riku crawled up and over him and then wonder of wonders, they were almost evenly on the bed, lengthwise, the way it was meant to be lain on. Riku shifted on his knees comfortably, slipped his fingers under the hem of Sora's shirt and leaned back to pull it up.

And promptly smacked his head on the top bunk.

Sora stifled a laugh, somewhere around Riku's muttered, "Ow," accompanied by rubbing his head and glaring at the wood slat that had connected with it. A few snickers got out, though, before he finally managed a, "You okay?"

"I think this might be worse than in the car."

"I hit my head, you know." Sora grinned, reached up to grab Riku's shoulder and tug him back down. "Twice."

"You did?"

"Yeah." Another barely repressed snicker. "You didn't even notice, did you?"

Riku rolled his eyes, started with a "Well--" and never quite finished, because there had obviously been other things on his mind at the time, and there certainly were now, and Sora took that opportunity to help matters along.

It wasn't as easy as he thought, pulling his own shirt off while lying on his back--it required some wriggling and arching and tugging and once he was done with it, plucking the fabric away from his face, Riku was speechless and staring down at him, eyes roaming everywhere and in the next instant they were kissing again and there was no further time to gauge his reaction.

Skin on skin was... different. Different-good, it was warm and shivering and sliding and stuck a bit in places where they were sweating, and Sora thought about how it would feel if the rest of the clothing was gone. Riku's hands were on his sides, a little bit under him, shoulders first and then sliding down and his own hands were on Riku's back now, feeling all those movements under his palms, and Sora thought about what they'd been doing before he made them stop. Thought about that, what Riku had said and the fact that Riku had him on his back but Sora was the one controlling the kiss; that Riku was pressing him down but was touching him in different places, experimenting and finding the things that felt best, that Sora would enjoy most.

And Riku's knee was between his legs but it wasn't pressing yet and Sora wanted it to, kissed Riku a little harder and pressed his palms flat against his spine and when that didn't work he just pushed his hips up instead. Felt the shudder run up his back, felt Riku murmur into the kiss, soft amusement.

Then that knee started rubbing, slowly, and Sora's breath stuttered and his fingers curled and Riku's mouth moved on to his neck, nuzzled the skin beneath the hemp necklace and dragged his lips along the length of it and that was when everything started to break down.

Riku's mouth left little damp spots all over his chest that went cold in the air; swiped his tongue against a nipple at one point and that had been strange, sharp twinge of pleasure in his stomach. He didn't keep track of all the places, some of them made him shiver and some made him gasp and he didn't really pay attention again until he felt Riku's fingers fiddling with his belt, and that suddenly became very important. His hands had been tracing the little indent of Riku's spine, up and down along the length of it and he liked listening to the little sighs Riku made at certain points, but after several seconds of the belt failing to come undone he stopped touching and reached down to unlatch it. Then, because the progression made sense, he thumbed the button open, pulled the zipper down, and at that point Riku caught his hands.

He was hovering over Sora about halfway down, one hand sunk in the mattress for support and cautious to not lean up too high and collide with the top bunk again. His eyes were bright, there was a curl of amusement--maybe happiness?--at the corners of his mouth and he pressed a soft kiss into Sora's palm. "You're shaking."

Sora sucked in a breath, swallowed, and yes there was a low tremor all through his limbs and his body but it didn't seem that important, overall. "Yeah. S'okay."

"'Kay." Riku licked his lips, watching his face, then kissed his hand again and slid down, lower, fingers over his hips and mouth brushing his stomach--and then his hands were slipping under the waistband, under everything to the hypersensitive skin beneath and pushed both pants and boxers down at the same time. Cold air hitting him inch by gruelling inch. Riku's mouth sucking on the bit of flesh just below his navel.

Sora curled his fingers in the blankets and repressed a noise that was embarassingly squeaky. Don't panic. Breathe. That tremor was still there and he couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement or both. Felt it in how Riku's fingers dragged over his ass, down the underside of his thighs, still pulling fabric away. How he gave up somewhere around Sora's knees and started up again, inner legs this time and Sora's hips jerked and his mind fell into a rhythm of touch me, touch me, _touch me_ , godpleasedosomething and when Riku's mouth started moving again his hair followed along and the trail of it over his skin was fucking _sinful_. The hand that finally slid up and wrapped around him made him shudder so hard the muscles in his thighs never stopped quivering and the--

Oh. Ohgod. We--wet. Mouth. Oh fuck. _Yes_.

More. Riku's hand on his stomach to keep him from thrusting up, instinct, Sora's hands fisted in the blankets and tugged to mark each second passing. More. Back arching, mouth open, ridiculous sounds in his throat but it didn't matter because--more. _More_. And Riku's tongue was--yes, yes, _yes_ and his voice was forming around words that never quite finished and the burn in his gut was coiling on itself and more, please, _more_ , y--ye--

_Ah_

It was familiar and different, the shiver in his hips and the lights under his eyelids, the lethargy that sank through his muscles one by one afterwards. This time, though, when he uncurled his fingers and toes and opened his eyes Riku was hovering over him, hand across his mouth and a tissue he'd swiped from the desk, wrinkling his nose a little until he noticed Sora watching him. And for just a second it was awkward--Riku had sucked him off. _Riku_ , with the mouth he kissed him with, had _sucked him off_ and Sora was at a loss for what to say, how to react to this for that bare second.

And when the second was over Riku smirked softly, fondly, and said, "Well, that didn't take much."

Sora grabbed the pillow and thwacked him with it.

At some point, once the pillow fight was over, Sora figured out that touching someone else was a lot like touching himself, and that he liked the way Riku's voice caught in his throat and how his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. How he moaned Sora's name. Liked how he looked in the angle of streetlight and moonlight, lying on his back with one hand in his hair, naked except for a pair of plaid boxers that were barely on his hips. Liked how his body felt, bare and against his, all the little experiments and explorations with hands and fingers and mouths and tongues.

They fell asleep sometime in the dead hours of the morning, to the hushed non-sound of more snow falling outside. Riku would wake first, sometime when the sun was high and the dorm beyond Sora's locked door was starting to bustle with life. He watched the square of light from the window creep across the bed, limbs tangled with limbs tangled with sheets. Watched Sora breathing, the hair around his ears stuck down with sweat, the way his eyes flickered and his mouth murmured soundlessly while he was dreaming. Riku would trace a finger down his cheek, ultimately, because he couldn't help it and that would wake Sora up, and he'd yawn and stretch like a cat before he opened his eyes, and grinned.

That was the best part.

 

 

"Anyway." Roxas buttoned his jeans closed and reached up to finish toweling his hair dry, flicked the bathroom light off before returning to the main room. Axel was still in bed, propped up against the headboard with a cigarette. Hair in a tangled mess that even the braid couldn't prevent, not after--mmm, last night. And this morning. Roxas stretched, dropping the towel over the back of the desk chair, all his muscles settled into a pleasant ache that would loosen up later, after a few hours on the halfpipe. "You should have been there, man, their _faces_. It was fucking priceless. Everyone, they were like..." He trailed off, dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, accepted the cigarette when it was offered and took a slow drag. Exhaled. " _Gobsmacked_. I mean fucking _bug-eyed_. Most hilarious shit I have ever seen in my life."

Roxas laughed just at the memory of it, but Axel had a strange expression on his face, arms folded over his stomach and for a moment he just sat and watched Roxas smoke without comment. Then finally, "That was a ballsy move. For Sora, I mean."

He shrugged a little, tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray on Axel's knee. "Well, it's not like they didn't already know. Kissing Riku in front of everyone, that was just validation."

Axel leaned forward, reached up to steal the cigarette back, settled back against the headboard and took a lazy drag, blowing it at the ceiling before responding. "Must be nice."

Roxas felt his mood plummet directly from post-(multiple)-orgasmic contentment with a side of good humor to total frustration with the world in general in the span of about five seconds. He scowled at the rumpled sheets covering Axel's legs and got up, stalked over to the mini-fridge to find something edible and breakfast-like.

"Yeah, you go do that," Axel muttered around the cigarette somewhere behind him. "Let's just keep not talking about this, that'll solve everything."

"Fuck you."

"Too late."

He grabbed the half-empty quart of milk and slammed the fridge closed, straightened to see if there was anything resembling a bowl or cereal nearby and finally all but threw it onto the desk, the carton sliding to a halt against the computer ineffectively. "What? What do you want to do, Axel? They're out, bully for them, pin them on some fucking medals, break out the rainbow flag and throw a gay pride parade. Being out is a fucking _luxury_ , man. You know what a luxury is?" He spun and paced back towards the door for a second, then again to return to the desk, grabbed his shirt from where it was lying on the chair and yanked it on. Tugged it down fully before redirecting his glare at Axel, still smoking on the bed, still with that same expression. "It's something you pay out the ass for, that's what."

Axel crushed out the cigarette in the ashtray, twisting and tapping until every last spark was extinguished. "Maybe I'm willing to pay the price."

Another pace backwards and then forwards again, Roxas shoving a hand back through his damp hair, slicing his palm through the air. "You don't even know--"

"Get the fuck over it, Rox." Axel swung his legs off the bed, dropped the ashtray back on the windowsill with a clatter. "Your family knows. Zex knows. Sora knows, and if Sora knows it won't be long before Riku does, too. Our friends--you think they're going to care? My parents didn't care that their son spent the majority of his teenage years getting stoned in their basement, you think they're going to care about this? The only people you're worried about are the ones that don't even fucking _matter_."

Axel was off the bed before Roxas could pace anymore, across the room before Roxas could come up with a retort and didn't seem to care that he was still stark naked. His hand slid around the back of Roxas's neck, pulled him forward until their foreheads were pressed together, eyes looking directly into his. Green like poison, like grass before the summer turned it brown.

"You were willing to pay the price for Riku," Axel murmured, breath low and hot. "Why not for me?"

His voice wavered a little on the last word, broke slightly at the end. Roxas swallowed. "That--it wasn't the same. The situation was totally different."

"Was it?"

" _Yes_." Roxas hissed it, grabbed Axel by the shoulders when he started to jerk away and pulled him back. Pressed his mouth against the hollow of Axel's cheek, day-old stubble and the faint hint of cologne under the smell of his skin. Mouthed the words right there, enough breath to them that he'd hear it.

Axel exhaled against the curve of his ear. Started to pull away again and then changed his mind, sigh through his nose that was half exasperation and wrapped his arms around Roxas, tugged him tight against his chest and kissed him hard on the temple, then soft on the lips, once. And again.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he said, finally pulling back for real and brushing past Roxas to the tiny bathroom. No further discussion, no looks or words to gauge just how deep this went.

Roxas felt something snapping in the air between them, like rubber bands stretching too far and breaking. He swallowed, and wondered why three words whispered in sincerity weren't enough to fix everything. "You--we're gonna go to the skate park today, right?"

"Yeah." One word from the bathroom, short echo inside, and then the door closed.


	23. Lightning Crashes

**23:  Lightning Crashes**  
  
There wasn't much snow at the skate park, being situated under the freeway as it was, but it sat around in little flurries and drifts at the edges of it, rutted on the road where passing cars had packed it down and clinging to the slopes of the berms that held the overpass aloft.  Sora approached it with skates slung over his shoulder, wrapped in the slim Carhart jacket Roxas had found at the thrift store and shoved him into and now he knew why, silently praised whoever had come up with the idea of down-insulating a coat in the first place.  
  
It was the coldest day of the year so far; the temperature had dropped sharply overnight, leaving the world frostbitten and the snow still on the ground powdery with an icy top crust.  It was still early in the day, not yet noon and Sora shivered in it, could still feel all the places Riku had been the night before underneath the layers of clothing, despite the shower that washed away any actual physical remnants--he, unlike a certain roommate he had, did not go about smelling like sex.  No, it was a ghost sensation that clung to his nerves, threatened to distract him all day along with the long, slow kiss he'd just finished before they both left the dorm room, Riku slipping out the window and landing in the snow with only slightly more grace than Roxas had; Sora piling on clothes and marching out the front with only slightly more dignity.  
  
Riku had been in a good mood.  He didn't mind that Sora still wanted to go to the skate park--he still didn't want to come along, but didn't mind.  Kissed him slow, made him promise to go to the movies tomorrow night.  
  
Sora's feet crunched where the snow petered out and gave way to concrete, white to gray, trudged across it with hands deep in the pockets of his coat.  No one else was there yet, save for one statue-like figure staring at the overpass wall, and for a moment Sora wondered if he hadn't just frozen in place there, head tilted to the side, orange can of spray paint in one gloved hand.  Would have thought that was the case if not for the steam of breath puffing from his mouth.  
  
He came to a halt at Zexion's side, exchanged a nod and a "Morning" with the college student and turned his attention to the graffiti mural, wondering what was holding his attention.  Nothing had changed since he was last at the park, the whorls of color and the shadowy figures moving through it giving way to chalk outlines, patches of it filled in.  There was a bucket of spray cans at Zexion's feet but even as Sora watched he dropped his orange paint back in with the others, let out a sigh that rolled and plumed in the air.  
  
"It's too cold," he said by way of explanation to Sora's blink of confusion.  "The paint won't spray evenly."  
  
"Oh."  Sora buried his chin under the high collar of the coat, watched how his breath tumbled over it and felt it steam back onto his lips.  Warm damp that chilled too quickly.  "You think anyone else is coming?  It's freezing out here."  
  
"They'll be here."  Zexion said this with certainty, dug through his coat pockets for a stick of chalk and finally approached his mural, smearing out some outlines with a gloved thumb and then setting to work replacing them, silent and focused on whatever vision was in his head.  
  
Sora shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet, willing his muscles to warm, skates rattling on his shoulder from the movement.  His eyes raked over the mural again, paused again on the silhouette in a corner, a figure on a skateboard frozen in motion, board spinning under its feet mid-trick.  And he hesitated, there, because now that he really looked at it, that profile looked kind of familiar.  The way the shadow's hair was spiked.  
  
"It's Roxas."  
  
He wasn't totally sure he'd said that aloud until Zexion chuckled, chalk still scraping and tapping at the concrete.  "You just figured that out?"  
  
Sora's attention turned instantly to the other silhouettes, picking them out one by one.  The lounging shadow nearest the Roxas-shadow, clearly watching him with a cigarette in its mouth, was Axel, the outline so detailed he could see the spikes on his collar.  Somewhere above was a shadow-Hayner mid-ollie, and Pence with his longboard on an upswing, one hand on the invisible halfpipe and the other holding the board to his feet.  Between the two Olette was curled on her invisible park bench, book in hand.  
  
There were others, of course, bleeding over into the part of the mural that wasn't finished; Sora guessed they were Larxene and Demyx from what little Roxas had told him about his friends.  Zexion himself was a shadow leaning against the stylized words in the center that Sora still couldn't quite make out, cigarette in mid-drag and spray can in his free hand.  
  
He finally settled on the section Zexion was altering, not sure what the old lines had been or what the new lines were forming into.  After a few minutes of staring and squinting the artist tossed a look over his shoulder, corners of his mouth turning up.  "I have to make room for you, now."  
  
Sora wasn't sure what to do with the little bit of pleased flattery that fluttered around in his chest, but was saved from any kind of reaction from a formless yell from up the street, three figures tromping along through the snow, kicking up flurries of it.  Olette had Hayner and Pence on either side, arms around both of their necks as they walked.  
  
Over the next hour or so, the park began to fill with the owners of the shadows on the mural.  Sora tied on his skates and joined Hayner on the halfpipe, wiped out a few times as they challenged each other to tricks and barely felt the sting of concrete through his layers of clothing.  Pence was over by the overpass wall, longboard under one arm and engaged in some unknown conversation with Zexion; Olette was cross-legged on the bench watching them, eyes bright with laughter that occasionally puffed from her mouth in clouds.  
  
Demyx arrived around the time Sora had to stop and take his jacket off, beginning to swelter just a bit under the down lining from muscles warm with exertion.  The guy himself was all grins, satisfied to sit on his board and watch the two boys on the halfpipe until they almost ran into each other and ended up in a tangled pile at the bottom.  He had this New Wave thing going on, hair in a funky flat top and neon colors under the jacket he was wearing, and Sora figured no one could get far enough past the grin to explain to the guy that the eighties were over.  After the combined wipeout, he and Hayner launched into a story about junior high and an impromptu competition to see who could ollie over the most pairs of sneakers, which had left everyone at the skate park including the competitors shoeless and still attempting to show each other up.  Somewhere in the midst of this Larxene arrived and began correcting the male bravado, informing Sora with a tilt of her blonde head and a shrug under her leather jacket that no one had made it past five pairs.  
  
Axel and Roxas arrived last, just around noon when the sun was burning off the overcast sky and peeking through to offer some light and a moderate amount of warmth, just enough to melt some of the frost into damp patches.  Sora watched them approach down the sidewalk, from the same direction Demyx and Larxene had come--from the community college.  Axel without much concern for the cold, dressed just as he had been earlier in the week when Sora found him in the parking lot, Roxas in the vintage sheepskin coat Sora had first seen him don when they left the dorm for Thanksgiving.  Sora watched them walk, and frowned at the good foot of space between them.  
  
What happened to the couple he'd seen in the alley behind the dormitory, so wrapped up and in love with each other that they hadn't even noticed Sora stumble upon them, rather loudly at that, before cautiously retreating to the alley's mouth to make sure no one else made the same discovery?  Sure, maybe they didn't want the others to know just yet, but this level of coldness wasn't quite right.  It made Sora's skin prickle, everywhere it was exposed to the bitter winter weather.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
Roxas acted normal enough--visibly brightened when he saw Sora there, paused to chat with Demyx and Larxene, now embroiled in an argument over just how the ollie competition had really gone, then hurried over to the halfpipe to exchange punches in the arm with Hayner, the two of them wandering off to the concrete ramps and dunes over to the side for a little freestyling.  
  
Axel dropped onto the bench, now vacated as Olette had gone to join her boyfriend and Zexion over at the mural.  Sora climbed off the halfpipe, a little too warm and cold at the same time to keep skating at the moment, grabbed his coat off the bench and pulled it around his shoulders.  Sat and waited while Axel pulled out a cigarette, hunching around himself to light it.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Not much."  Axel said it automatically, quick inhale and exhale, smoke indiscernible from the fog of breath in the air.  
  
"No," Sora amended, giving up and pulling the jacket on properly, thumbing the snaps closed and digging the gloves out of the pockets--it was really too cold now that he wasn't in motion.  "I mean with you two."  
  
Axel's next exhale was a half-laugh, a hard breath that froze instantly, followed by the cigarette pressing between his lips, a slight shake of the head and he shoved his hands in the pockets of his faded black jean jacket.  "It's nothing."  The cigarette bobbed as he spoke, little glow of ash flying around.  "It's stupid."  
  
Sora's train of thought screeched to an abrupt halt, threw into reverse.  In the mental space where Fake and Ownership sat and observed Sora's life the world shook so hard the couch overturned, the rabbit-eared TV fell to the floor with a smash and a hiss of cathode-ray tubes and the two concepts huddled on the floor together in fright, hands over their heads, mental notes scattered and swirling through the air in a tornado.  
  
In the real world, the mind's owner grit his teeth, and said with a soft, deliberate certainty, "No.  It's not _nothing_ , and it's not _stupid_.  What's going on?"  
  
Axel started at the hard edge in Sora's voice, turned his head to stare back at him, technicolor-green eyes darting around his face for a moment before he pulled one hand out, reached up to catch the cigarette between two fingers and draw it from his mouth.  "We had a fight this morning."  His voice was kept low, expression distinctly unhappy.  "That's all.  It happens, it'll be okay."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Axel looked like he wanted to say yes, like he was poised to do it, but after a moment of being there and the word not coming out, he raised the cigarette back to his mouth and took a long drag.  
  
Sora was restless for the remainder of the afternoon.  He hopped on the halfpipe once in a while just to get his muscles moving and generate enough heat to keep his body warm for another hour, but otherwise he skated around, chatted a little or listened to the others chat, wished for a stick and a hockey court and a team to pit his frustration against.  His mental space was in chaos, the TV was a total loss and the two concepts had righted the couch but his notes were in shambles, some ripped to bits and some lost and what remained in so much disorder that no sense could be made of it.  And he was just--he was just _angry_.  Just fucking pissed that things couldn't just be okay.  That everything had to be so goddamned complicated and that everyone had to keep secrets and tell half-truths and bottle up all of what was really happening because showing that you were hurt wasn't the masculine thing to do.  Men were supposed to handle their own problems privately, not talk about their emotions over coffee and shortbread to make some kind of sense out of them--that was what women did, and sometimes he wondered if they didn't have it right.  
  
Boys though--they were good at fighting.  That's what boys did.  
  
It was late in the afternoon when it happened.  The days were getting steadily shorter, and the angle of sunlight was turning orange, sparkling in the snow.  Sora was climbing down from the railings of the halfpipe, considering the waning day and the walk back to the dorm and what eateries were between here and there, considering asking Roxas what he thought about that.  Axel was still on the bench, not that he'd been there the whole time--upset or not, fighting with Roxas or not, he was exactly the social butterfly Sora expected and made several circuits of the park throughout the day to talk with pretty much everyone, hands in motion whenever he launched into storytelling mode and even joking and goofing off with Roxas at one point because that was what best friends did, and the others weren't supposed to know and weren't supposed to worry.  
  
At that moment, though, Sora was sitting on the steps to the halfpipe railings, changing back into his shoes, and Axel was sitting on the bench, and somewhere to the side of it Olette was brushing off her coat from the somewhat failed snowball fight Demyx had attempted to start, which didn't work out so well as the snow's consistency was too dry to actually form snowballs.  Pence stopped in front of her, en route to the halfpipe, and for a moment it was just _them_.  Foreheads pressed together, something unknown whispered between them.  Just a moment, just a few fleeting seconds and it was over, Pence climbing up to the railings and Olette pulling a book from her pocket.  
  
Just a moment, but Axel watched the whole thing from the bench, and Sora watched him and figured he had an idea what Axel and Roxas had fought about that morning.  It might have ended there--it probably should have ended there but then Roxas, totally oblivious to what had just occurred, hurried over, skidded to a halt at Olette's side and launched into some conversation, too low to really be heard but based on a few gestures towards the book in her hand Sora guessed it had something to do with their shared reading material.  The conversation, though, was beside the point--Axel was still watching, and his attention shifted to land fully on Roxas, and his expression shifted along with it.  It was heart-rending, the amount of longing apparent there, the desire to just _be together_ in a way that was natural and not forced or obligatory in an effort to appear normal, to appear as no more than friends.  Desire for the effortless unity in a press of foreheads and exchanged whispers.  
  
And right when that look was at its deepest and darkest, Roxas felt the eyes on him, and looked over--and Olette, like a reflex, followed his attention.  
  
Roxas froze.  Olette blinked, frowned, opened her mouth to say something.  
  
The flurry of movement that followed threw the scene into chaos, drew more attention than it should have and it ended with Sora's hands pushing Olette away by the shoulders, assuring her it was okay, Axel and Roxas vanished around the side of the halfpipe but their voices steadily rising.  The others were paused in their various activities scattered around the small park, peering over, shuffling forward a bit.  Zexion finally abandoned his wall, loping across the crushed winter grass with long strides, ignoring everyone but the fighting couple behind the concrete structure.  Sora assured Olette was remaining in place, and joined him.  
  
"--can't even fucking _look_ at you!" Axel was hissing, shaking Roxas's hand off his arm and jerking away from him, teeth bared.  "Can't look, can't touch, can't even fucking _think_ about it, Roxas.  I'm fucking _sick_ of this bullshit."  
  
Roxas was no better, scowl in place and body coiled as though preparing for a scrap--and if this continued, there might very well be one.  "You think I don't fucking hate it, too?  What do you want, you want to walk down the street holding hands?  You want someone to follow me home and beat me to a bloody fucking pulp?  You want to read about me in the newspaper, another fucking no-name hate crime for the authorities to do nothing about?  Fuck you, Ax.  Just--just _fuck you_ if you don't want to protect us, too."  
  
"Who are you protecting us from, right now?"  Axel's arms flung out in frustrated gestures and Zexion was moving around them, closer to the redhead, exchanging a glance with Sora to assure he was doing the same with Roxas.  They were volatile, both of them, muscles coiling and Sora, carefully behind and to the side of Roxas now, could almost smell the fight in the air.  Felt the electricity of it.  "Olette?  Demyx?  Fucking--" belated gesture towards him, Roxas's head shooting around to note Sora at his flank.  "Sora?  Who?"  
  
Roxas spat, ignored Sora's presence and launched back into the argument, a pace forward, Axel tensing at the proximity.  "Don't you get it?  The more people who know, the easier it is to find out.  Don't be a fucking idiot.  It's called _caution_ , goddammit, and you could really fucking use a dose!"  
  
Axel went quiet, suddenly--still, suddenly, deep breaths in his chest and teeth still grit but the tension drained away.  "If that's so fucking important to you, if you're that fucking scared, Roxas, then why did you even start this?"  
  
Sora felt his stomach plummet, saw the sensation mirrored a thousandfold on Roxas's face.  Saw the denial there, anger, retaliation, knowing what was going to happen and railing against it.  Fighting, fighting, fighting.  "What do you mean _I_ started this?  Who got stoned and kissed me in the basement?"  
  
"You didn't have to take it anywhere."  Axel's muscles were uncoiling, one by one.  His posture straightening, and he almost smiled fondly, a hint of memory somewhere behind the words.  "You're the one who asked me out."  
  
Roxas flailed for a protest, half of it ready somewhere behind his eyes and his mouth opened, half of it somewhere on his tongue and he started, "Axel--"  
  
"You," the redhead cut him off, his own name still hanging in the air, frozen on Roxas's breath.  "Started this."  Swallow, hands shifted to shove down in his pockets and that jacket was really too small for him, Sora noted distantly, noted the way Axel's feet shifted, how he started moving.  "I'm ending it."  
  
Axel walked away.  
  
It had to have been a full minute, stunned in silence, while Sora just stared at his retreating back, red hair and faded black disappearing down the sidewalk, total disbelief at what had just happened despite knowing it would, somewhere in his heart, since Axel muttered those doomed words hours ago.  A full minute, maybe, and then he finally shook himself, turned to ascertain the blond at his side--  
  
Roxas was... frozen.  Hands clenched in fists, eyes wide and mouth still half open, stunned into disbelief and total fucking rejection of what had just happened.  Watching Axel walking away, and doing nothing.  
  
"What--what the _fuck_ are you doing?"  Sora broke the tableau abruptly, smashed it like china on the kitchen floor and if that was what it took to finally get someone's attention, to finally bring them around to face reality then maybe it was a necessary evil, after all.  Roxas shook, shudder in his shoulders and blink in his eyes and jerked his head to the side to look at him, something deep and bleeding in his expression for a moment before it turned sour, darkened.  Sora started, made a gesture of immense frustration, somewhere in the direction of where Axel was disappearing in the white and gloom and early sunset.  "What are you doing, Roxas?"  
  
"I--"  Roxas swallowed, shook himself again, looked around almost helplessly for a moment before his scowl returned, hands fisting and raising up in defiance.  "I'm not wrong, dammit!"  
  
"Being right, and being right but willing to compromise are two different things."  Zexion noted this from his place on the sidelines where Axel wasn't, not watching the road or the retreat but focused instead on the boy still on the grass, still fighting despite not having anything to fight anymore.  "You created this situation."  
  
"No I fucking didn't!"  Roxas did have things to beat himself on, though, two very good ones standing by, and he turned to Sora first, scowl growing to a grimace, teeth bared white and Sora instantly braced himself, muscles coiled in defense.  "Just because you have it so fucking perfect--"  
  
"Don't take this out on me."  Sora felt himself falling into that mentality, expression hardening, voice drawing an edge across the exchange.  "Don't you dare.  I'll lay you on the fucking pavement."  
  
"Roxas."  
  
The voice was muted and female and jerked them out of their combined tension, and when they looked up Olette was standing there, closest to them, all the others in various positions behind her.  Blinking and wondering, confused, eyebrows down, mouths frowning.  
  
"Roxas," she repeated, uncertain whether to reach out to him or not, voice wavering with concern, tinged with care, a little of her own hurt spicing the tone.  "What's going on?"  
  
"You should tell them," Zexion murmured somewhere behind him.  "They're your friends."  
  
"Tell us what?"  Hayner pushed forward abruptly, past Olette, one hand on Roxas's shoulder without much care for how wound the blond might be, fingers curling in the fleece collar of his coat and tugging him forward a step.  "What the hell is up, man?  Spill it."  
  
And faced with his friends, with their expressions and eyes and all that genuine concern, genuine desire to just know and share the problem, whatever it happened to be, Roxas broke.  
  
He broke the way that only boys did, the way that china did when it landed on tile.  He shattered, nearly crumpled, jerking away from Hayner and backing off on shaking legs, bared teeth no longer a threat but holding back whatever was in his throat.  And Sora wasn't sure what it was that caused it, whether he realized that he'd made a mistake, that he wasn't fully in the right, or if it had just finally hit home that Axel had just ended it, just broke up with him and walked away and that Roxas hadn't done a goddamn thing to stop him--whatever it was, when the moment struck where he just couldn't hold himself together a second longer, Roxas spun around and ran.  Down the snow-packed road, the opposite direction Axel had taken, back towards the high school and the dormitory.  
  
His skateboard was sitting in the grass, a few feet from where Sora was standing.  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxas wasn't in the room when Sora returned to the dorm.  He wasn't sure how worried he ought to be about that, but figured he didn't know where to even begin looking--figured Roxas couldn't stay out in the cold, anyway, figured the last place he'd want to go right now was to his dad's house, and therefore figured he'd come home sooner or later, and settled in to wait.  
  
It was Zexion who took over at the skate park, after Roxas disappeared down the road, when the others were still waiting for an explanation and weren't about to take some "Don't worry about it" pass-off as an answer.  Sora had balked, caught between keeping his promise and thinking that it was probably the best thing, when it came right down to it, to break it.  But Zexion either had never made such a promise or had no such compunctions, and proceeded to tell the assembled group exactly how it was.  
  
Axel and Roxas had been dating for six months.  Axel just broke up with him because Roxas refused to compromise between his fears and convictions and the boy he loved.  
  
There was too much honesty in the way Zexion presented things.  Sora had left without a word, collected his skates and Roxas's board and walked off, following the powdery tracks his roommate had left in the snow.  
  
And now Roxas was off alone somewhere, with nothing but a broken heart and a truckload of guilt for company.  
  
Sora played Mortal Kombat until his eyelids drooped, then switched to Mario Kart until the RA knocked on his door.  Sora hesitated, flipping the screen to pause and looked at the door, blinking, wondering if it was really that late and he was really still alone in the room until the knock sounded again, annoyed voice behind it calling out again, "Curfew check, lights out.  Anyone in there?"  
  
"Come in."  Sora half-choked on the words, the first he'd spoken since he threatened to kick Roxas's ass.  
  
The RA opened the door, peering inside to see Sora perched on the top bunk, took a look around the room and frowned.  "Where's your roommate?"  
  
Sora swallowed hard.  "I don't--"  
  
"I'm here."  Roxas shoved through the doorway, cheeks red from the cold, not caring that he'd just jostled the RA into the doorframe, hard.  He opened the door to the bathroom without further comment, disappearing inside and letting it fall closed with a bang.  
  
The RA blinked, straightened and rubbed his shoulder, then sighed and marked off his clipboard.  "All right, then.  Lights out, Sora."  He shot a pointed look at the top bunk before retreating, closing the door quietly in contrast to Roxas's slam.  
  
Sora slid off the bunk, stretched up on tiptoes by the wardrobe to switch off the TV and the console next to it, wandered over to flick off the main light, right above Roxas's skateboard, unacknowledged, sitting perfectly in its usual corner nook.  The shower turned on, and Sora turned to the bathroom, found the door unlocked and he peered inside.  
  
The shower was on but Roxas wasn't in it--he'd got as far as shedding his coat by the door, then his All-Stars (the brown ones, today) and socks, then his flannel, and that was as far as he got.  He was facing away, leaning against the wall, forehead against the blue tiles, arms around his stomach, shoulders hitching.  Hours of being broken in the cold who knows where and only now-- _now_ he was losing it?  
  
Or maybe he'd just been hovering on the edge of it, waiting for something to tip.  
  
Sora closed the door behind himself, unheard over the sound of water spraying.  Settled his hands on Roxas's shoulders and drew back in caution when the boy jerked around, teeth bared and fists up but Sora was ready, caught both his wrists and held him still.  
  
"No one else is here."  Sora said it calmly--permission and a promise.  It's okay, I'm not going to tell.  Watched his expression and entire countenance shudder, break apart and Roxas fell boneless into his arms, weight dragging them both down to the hard tile floor.  He was cold, freezing to the touch and shaking both from that and stubbornly withheld sobs, bone-deep.  He could barely catch his breath to scream into Sora's shoulder, muffled by clothing and flesh and the white noise of water in the background.  Hands clutching Sora's shirt, the last little piece of china broke in two, and Roxas cried.  
  
Sora held him, arms tight, nose buried in blond spikes and the smell of shampoo and Paul Mitchell and sweat, cracking a little himself with every sob that wracked through Roxas's body.  And he figured, by the time it had quieted to watery, hitching breaths and soft whimpers, that maybe there was a reason that teenagers were all so fucking pissed at the world, after all.  
  
There was every reason to be angry if this is what love, the most wonderful thing on earth, really amounted to.  
  
  
  
  
  
Kairi called the next day, just when Sora was on the verge of losing his mind.  
  
Roxas didn't get out of bed that morning.  Even hours after Sora was up and dressed and certain that the blond was no longer asleep, just huddled under the blankets and staring at the wall.  Finally, when it could no longer be properly called morning and was something more like afternoon, Sora climbed up on the edge of his bed and peered over the railing of the top bunk, scowling at the back of Roxas's head, and said quite clearly, "Get your ass out of bed before I kick it out."  
  
So Roxas got out of bed.  But he didn't shower, and he didn't fix his hair, and he didn't get dressed--just climbed out and down and onto Sora's bed.  Curled up in a corner into a ball of disheveled blond and flannel sleep pants and... _sulked_.  
  
Sora bore it as well as he could, mostly absorbed in his homework although Roxas's silent sulking was so damn loud he might as well have the stereo up at full volume.  And normally it would at least be on, playing something softly in the background, and normally when Roxas was in the room with nothing to do he'd either switch the console on or have his nose buried in a book.  
  
Finally, after hours of Roxas sulking on his bunk turning out to be no better than Roxas pretending to be asleep and sulking on his own bunk, Sora slapped his pencil down on the desk and said, "Go talk to him and fix it."  
  
Roxas's head jerked up from where it was slumped against his knees, eyes regarding Sora for the first time that day, red-rimmed and bloodshot and purple underneath, and he wondered if Roxas had actually slept at all.  He stared, just for a moment, looking like absolute shit for the first time in the tenure of he and Sora's friendship which, albeit brief, had included both a pot hangover and the aftermath of two scraps of varying degrees.  
  
His voice croaked when he finally responded, head returning to his knees immediately.  "I can't."  
  
"Yes, you can," Sora said in all seriousness, one finger pressing the pencil firmly against his desk, watching the crumpled bit of boy on his mattress in the angle of his desk lamp.  "You're the only one who can."  
  
"I _can't_ ," Roxas insisted, voice muffled, cracking slightly in the middle like he was still four years younger, and the way he was acting he might as well be.  He curled up into a tighter ball.  
  
"Okay then."  Sora's voice was soft and he let the poor abused pencil go, leaning over the desk--he had to all but crawl onto it to reach Roxas's head, hand patting the golden spikes for a moment before reaching further down and grabbing his earlobe.  Hard.  
  
"OW!  Fuck--"  
  
"If you're not going to fix it," Sora hissed, drawing him upward as he leaned back, "then stop being a fucking baby about it.  Go take a goddamn shower, you reek."  
  
Roxas jerked away from him, rubbing his ear and sending him a wounded expression for the lack of sympathy--but they weren't going to talk about last night.  It was real enough, honest enough, but holding your best friend while he cried like his soul was tearing to shreds was not something a boy acknowledged in the light of day.  Roxas had his time to break down--now it was time to suck it up and soldier on.  
  
Which he did--rather to the effect of an affronted teenage girl, stomping away in a huff and slamming the bathroom door.  It was a start, at least.  
  
The phone rang shortly after the shower started and Sora answered it automatically, figuring it was Riku--they did still have a date, and he did still remember this despite the events working to push it from his mind and that was why he was trying to get his homework done--but the voice that vibrated over the phone and into his ear was amused and female.  
  
"Hey, Kai," he murmured in response, smile springing to his mouth at the sound of her laugh and collapsed back into his chair.  "I've just had the most fucked up twenty-four hours in the history of the world."  
  
He figured that was true, as twenty-four hours ago was still well _after_ he and Riku had decided to get out of bed.  It was after that when the fucked-up-ness started.  
  
"Really," she said, without much enthusiasm but he figured it was mostly sarcastic anyway.  "And here I was going to complain at you about my lousy holiday weekend."  
  
"You can still do that."  
  
"Hm, but now I want to hear about the most fucked up twenty-four hours in the history of the world.  You piqued my interest honey, now tell Kairi _every_ thing."  
  
And so, one eye on the bathroom door and one ear open for the groan of pipes as the shower switched off, Sora did.  He figured, somewhere in the midst of explaining his roommate and his relationship to the redheaded college student known as Axel--don't ask him to sing _Paradise City_ or he'll deck you, thank you very much--that since Kairi was nowhere in the vicinity of Bright, Oregon, and the chances of her and Roxas actually meeting anytime soon were slim, he could cheat a little on the promise.  
  
Or maybe, the darker bits of his mind thought while Fake and Ownership scowled, still failing to reorganize the mental notes--maybe it was practice for the real thing.  
  
"So your roommate--Roxas, he really loved this guy, right?"  Kairi's voice echoed a little sadly, slipping into the mood of the story.  "So, he's really brokenhearted right now."  
  
Sora agreed, voice quieting at the thump of water shutting off in the bathroom behind him.  He hadn't told Kairi about that, the part of the story that involved him and Roxas on the bathroom floor, for the same reason it wasn't being brought up between them.  That was private.  "Yeah, he is."  
  
"So."  Her voice wavered and switched, taking on a hard edge.  "Why are you being so mean to him?"  
  
"I'm not being mean."  Sora pushed his pencil until it rolled across the desk, little rattle of wood on wood, coming to a halt before it toppled over the edge.  "There's a difference between being brokenhearted and sulking just to milk it."  He licked his lips, leaned back in the chair to stare at the ceiling.  "And he _really_ needed a shower."  
  
"Just don't forget that boys have feelings, too.  Even you do."  Her voice was smiling, fondness in it, and she was probably remembering their own bathroom-floor episode, although it was nowhere near as dramatic.  It just happened on a porch swing the night before he left, surrounded by the smell of poppies.  Her voice took another turn, then.  "Is there anything you can do?"  
  
"I don't know."  He picked up the pencil, turned it on its point with one finger on the eraser, holding it upright.  "There might not be.  This might just be it, you know?  If Axel breaking up with him isn't enough to change his mind, I don't think there's anything else to do."  
  
"Well, don't give up yet.  Keep thinking."  She laughed brightly, like the waves and wind through palm trees.  "Surprisingly enough, it's one of the things you're good at."  
  
Roxas emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, five minutes after Sora hung up the phone, looking slightly more like himself.  His clothes were wrinkled, and his hair wasn't done, but some of that haggard, sleepless look had drained away and he smelled like soap and aftershave instead of day-old sweat and despair, so Sora took it as an improvement.  He wandered the middle of the room for a few minutes, steering clear of the pile of books on his desk, picking through the CDs uncertainly, then through the video games uncertainly, then finally grabbed the remote off the top of the wardrobe and climbed onto the top bunk, lounging on the pillows and flipping through the handful of analog channels while Sora continued his homework.  
  
Around the time Wheel of Fortune came on, Sora's pager buzzed, turning in place on the surface of the desk until he grabbed it and flipped it over.  The screen, upside-down, read 'hELL0' in inverted digits, which he figured meant Riku was on his way over, and started putting his homework away.  
  
Roxas peered down at him after a moment of shuffling and papers crunching, speaking for the first time since Sora sent him to the shower.  "What's up?"  
  
He shrugged a little, adding his math text to the corner pile, calculating what had gotten done and figured it was passable.  "Nothing, just going out with Riku."  
  
Roxas frowned, eyebrows drawing together.  "You have a date?"  
  
"Yeah."  He took a moment to examine his clothes, figured they were passable before looking up to see what the tension in Roxas's voice was about.  Found him scowling.  
  
"You have a fucking _date_ ," he grumbled, shook his head sharply and scooted back down to his TV-lounging position.  
  
"Yes, Roxas, because believe it or not, life goes on."  Sora returned his scowl, although he wouldn't see it now, stalking over to the door to get his shoes.  "Get over it."  
  
Roxas's voice was muffled.  "Fuck you."  
  
A knock sounded at the door, and Sora blinked, wondering if Riku had really gotten here that fast.  When he opened it, though, it was just the RA, fake smile in place as always, noting the presence of both boys before intoning, "Ah, Sora.  Can I see you for a moment?"  
  
He frowned just a little in consternation, wondering if he was in trouble, if this was going to compromise his plans.  "Well--"  
  
"Five minutes."  The RA held up as many fingers, palm flat in promise, and Sora sighed and followed him out, pulling the door closed against the sound of silence from the top bunk and Pat Sajak asking if there was an R on the board.  
  
The RA lead him down the hall, into the larger corner room that the RA's were gifted with and allowed to live in solo, though he figured since they were all college students it was some kind of perk in exchange for putting up with the high schoolers.  He was waved into a desk chair, the guy taking a seat opposite him and giving him the kind of look that school counselors gave students when they wanted them to believe that they really did care about their problems.  
  
"First of all, you're not in trouble or anything, this is routine.  The administration wants to keep track of kids that pose disciplinary risks if they're staying in the school housing system."  
  
"I haven't--"  
  
The guy held up a hand.  "I'm not talking about you."  
  
Sora wet his lips, felt his eyes narrowing.  "Roxas is fine."  
  
"Is he."  The guy considered this, pushing his glasses up and looked like he wanted to grab a file and start scribbling this information down.  He'd make a good principal.  "He almost got a curfew violation last night."  
  
"There was an issue yesterday.  It's fine."  
  
"I'll take your word for it."  The RA shrugged finally, giving up that line of questioning and leaning back to appear casual, one elbow on the desk.  "I just want you to know, if you ever encounter any real problems with him--especially problems that would reflect badly on you--you can always request to switch.  It's no trouble, we have potential roommates set aside for problem residents.  Just let me know, okay?"  
  
Sora wondered what Roxas would think of being labeled a 'problem resident' but didn't bother dwelling on it, having no intention of taking up the guy's offer.  He nodded solemnly though, to prove he understood, and asked, "That all?"  
  
The RA waved him off, assuring he was free and Sora exited back to the hall with a sense of both annoyance and relief.  He rubbed a hand through his hair, shaking his head until the sound of raised voices stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"Oh, _shit_."  
  
Because whether Roxas was milking it or not, being a deliberate pain in the ass or not, the worst thing Sora could possibly have done to him at the moment was leave him alone with Riku.  
  
The door to his room was slightly ajar, cracked just wide enough that both of their voices floated through it, loud and clear.  A couple of kids had stopped in the hall, staring over in wonder and Sora pushed past them, slipping into the room and closing the door firmly to deter any further gawking.  
  
They were in the middle of the floor, Roxas barefoot on the linoleum and singularly determined to get in Riku's much taller face; Riku, on the other hand, had his arms folded stubbornly, eyes bright and fierce, and this--  
  
It was worse than the bickering, even.  He never should have left.  
  
"--you and your hair-flipping pansy-ass waltz in here like a flaming fucking princess and think you own the goddamn place, think I give a fuck if you're taking it in the ass from my roommate--"  
  
Riku cut him off with a hiss, despite Roxas's hands moving, gesturing, invading his personal space to poke him in the chest.  Lips curled in a sneer.  "And you're there watching it every time from that fucking closet you like to hide in."  
  
Roxas's expression dropped from anger to mindless fury in a fraction of a second, teeth baring, fists balling at his hips, voice rising another notch until he was all but screaming in Riku's face.  "Oh, you'd know all about that, you fucking queer--you think your life is so much shit, you think you're so fucking wronged, why don't you go tie a noose around your goddamned neck, do the world a favor, at least then we never have to listen to poor little Riku whine about it anymore--"  
  
"And why the fuck are you hanging around to hear it, anyway?"  Riku pushed him back, face forward, their foreheads nearly touching, and Riku's voice was still level and even but the malice behind it carried all the weight.  "You have the hots for me or something?"  
  
Roxas's shoulders shook, face turning red, fists trembling and Sora wasn't fast enough, thought for sure he was going to throw a punch but after a second all that happened was Roxas licking his lips, eyes bright and deadly, and he said, "Sora doesn't love you."  
  
Riku lunged.  
  
Sora got between them just in time, caught Riku around the waist and shoved him back against the wardrobe before he could get his hands around Roxas's neck.  Roxas skittered backwards from the attack and then closed in, trying to pull Sora off, get around him somehow to land a punch, Riku struggling against the smaller boy's unexpected strength.  
  
In the midst of this, Sora grabbed them both by the collar and screamed, "STOP!"  
  
It occurred to them both at the same time to go still.  At the same time, that they'd broken their truce, their promise to Sora, and in wake of this the only sound in the room for a moment was labored breaths and the dim echoes of the television, clack of the wheel spinning and the audience clapping along.  
  
"God, _damn_ it," Sora hissed, finally releasing them but staying cautiously between, waiting until Roxas retreated to sit on the bottom bunk and Riku took a few steps back towards the door, airing out the space between them.  
  
Riku made the first attempt at some kind of resolution, shifting awkwardly on his heels.  "Okay look, we didn't really--" he took a breath, raised a pleading look at Sora.  "We didn't _mean_ any of that."  
  
"I fucking meant it," Roxas muttered from the bed, curling around himself like he had that morning, expression trained stoically at the linoleum.  
  
Riku made a noise in his throat, some kind of growling, repressed snarl, but it dissipated quickly, his attention returned to Sora and he again attempted to let the tension drain away.  "Just... let's just go, okay?  Roxas can sulk it off, or whatever, and we'll go watch James Bond blow shit up, and we'll all feel better."  
  
Sora considered this with a scowl, limbs still quivering with exertion, with having to pull his best friend and his boyfriend off each other, with--fucking _rage_ that he had to do so to begin with.  It should never have happened.  There was no reason for it, no logic.  
  
He licked his lips, opened his mouth, and said, "No."  
  
Riku looked like he'd been slapped.  Just--stupefied, eyes wide, mouth open.  Denial there in his eyes, hurt hovering there amongst the melon-green, waiting to overflow.  "Sora--"  
  
But Sora had enough of this--of the drama, of the emotions, the sulking and the whining of hurt little boys who didn't know how to deal with the pain, with their insecurity, who had to lash out at each other to prove it didn't bother them.  He was done.  Finished.  Sora's voice was like ice.  "Go home."  
  
"You said--" Riku had to stop and swallow, going hoarse, something different in the defenses going up now, in the way his fingers curled in.  "You said you wouldn't change your mind."  
  
"I didn't."  And maybe the cracks that Roxas had started were cracking a little more, maybe the two concepts in his head were flailing and wondering what the fuck he was doing but Sora was determined.  Set, carved in ice, a wall between Riku and Roxas.  "You did."  
  
Riku wavered for another moment, still hoping that Sora wasn't really serious, that he was just mad, that there would be some kind of reassurance forthcoming.  But there was none, and he finally jerked around and disappeared out the door with a surprising lack of stomping and banging.  He'd drive home, Sora figured, drop his keys on the counter and disappear into his room, turn his music up to deafening volumes and Risa would tell everyone not to bother him, because sometimes being seventeen and in love just fucking _sucked_.  
  
When the door was closed, and the footsteps had vanished, Sora turned to the bed, reached back to where Roxas was curled up, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out.  
  
"OW!  The fuck, Sora--"  
  
"Are you happy now?"  
  
Roxas balked, face to face with Sora and the uncanny level of barely withheld rage behind his eyes.  He braced himself against it, grit his teeth against it.  "What the fuck do you mean--"  
  
"You wanted me to be miserable, too."  Sora hissed it, voice frighteningly low and even.  "You selfish little shit.  Are you fucking happy now?"  
  
Roxas scowled, met him glare for glare.  " _Yes_."  
  
"Get out."  
  
He left the room with even less resistance than Riku had, but more noise, not bothering with the skateboard or shoes because he was just going to go downstairs.  Hide behind the ficus and sulk, listen to the other kids whisper and wonder about the yelling match in Sora's room, why Riku had left suddenly.  Speculating, starting rumors of their own.  High school students, they were good at talking.  
  
Sora was done with talking.  He was done with all of this and the last bit of talking he was going to do, now, was when lights out came around and Roxas shuffled back into the room--and he might be hurt, still, he might be cowed and maybe a little sorry, but Sora was going to say it, anyway.  
  
"You're going to have to switch rooms."  That was the final word.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku had been alive for seventeen and a half grueling years, some of them better than others, some of them much, much worse, but he'd never in all that time felt like anywhere near as much shit as he did on Monday morning.  
  
Sora hadn't said it was over in so many words, and that was really the only thing that gave him the will to drag himself out of bed in the morning.  He still didn't want to go to school, but his mom could be a hardass when she wanted, made sure he got dressed and ran a comb through his hair and didn't forget his backpack.  She drove him there herself when the Tercel refused to start, clearly in the same mood as he was.  
  
The femme-Borg was waiting in the entry hall, shrieking his name on sight but he didn't respond, didn't acknowledge them, and they stopped in their tracks, parting in confusion as he passed before turning to each other with whispers and speculation, wondering what had caused this bout of apathy.  Wondering if Sora would be willing to provide answers--or if he would be in the same state.  
  
Had they broken up?  Riku wondered the same thing.  Dragged his feet all the way down the senior hall to his locker, ignoring everyone and everything.  Ripped a safety pin off his shirt and flung it away when it snagged on his backpack strap, not caring who it hit or where it landed.  
  
One voice, though, finally worked its way through his funk, probably because it was right behind him and laced with so much ice and ire that it couldn't be ignored.  
  
"I fucking hate you."  
  
Riku glared over his shoulder, noted Roxas in a state that was nonexistent up until now, hair a mess and clothes no better, looking like he hadn't slept in days.  He snorted, turned back to shoving books in his backpack.  "Surprise, surprise."  
  
"No, Riku.  I want you to know that I really, truly, honestly fucking _hate_ you."  Roxas's voice was louder now, people were starting to stop, turn around, wonder.  Riku ignored it.  "I hate you for everything you've done to me, all the shit you've done to me, but especially--fucking _especially_ for _this_."  
  
"What I've done--"  Riku paused, incredulous, righteously pissed, shoved his backpack down on the floor and spun around and all the attention in the senior hall was on the two of them now, Riku with his back to his open locker and Roxas facing him.  "What _I've_ done?  What the fuck have I ever done to you, Roxas?"  He took a step forward, noted the blond failing to back down, felt blood pulsing in his ears.  "Who decided to follow me around like a lovesick puppy for shits and giggles?  Who decided," he hissed, step closer, almost nose to nose now, "to make my _entire,_ " one hand up, against Roxas's chest, shoving him back, "sophomore," another shove, another step, another notch up in volume, " _year,_ " slam of his palm against Roxas's chest, making him stagger, "a living fucking hell?"  
  
Roxas gaped at him, just for a moment, before his features twisted.  Bared teeth in a grimace of rage, he lifted his hands in defense, then shoved them against Riku's shoulders, forcing him back with surprising strength until he slammed into the lockers, clatter of metal that echoed in the suddenly silent hallway.  
  
"I _liked_ you, asshole!"  Roxas's face was red with fury, and he could have sworn there were tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, but it might have been a trick of the light.  "Are you fucking blind?"  
  
And as abruptly and simply as that, things started to click into place in Riku's head.  
  
Roxas disappeared into the crowd, storming away in fury before Riku could compose some kind of response.  So he remained there against the lockers, his own still open next to him, bag on the floor, books spilling out of it, and when he turned to the side wondering if he should do something about this, Sora was standing there.  
  
He didn't realize he was sliding until his ass hit the floor with a thump, limbs collapsing around him, head dropping down into his hands.  When he looked up again Sora was knelt beside him, no amount of judgment or emotion on his face, just waiting.  Curious, maybe.  
  
"I think I fucked up," he said, heard how his voice shook a little and things were coming together faster and faster, and it all made so much sense he wasn't sure how it had become so twisted to begin with.  "I think I really, really fucked up, Sora."  
  
Sora smiled a little, wryly, shrugged his shoulders.  "It happens, I guess."  
  
The warning bell sounded, the students who were still wondering at the aftermath of the scene quickly scuttling away.  Sora's hand fell on his shoulder, encouraging him to get up.  Chemistry, they had to get going.  
  
"No," he murmured, catching Sora by the sleeve and looking up at him, imploring, not sure, still, that they were really okay, but he figured he owed Sora this much, whether it was over or not.  "Come to the drama club room with me.  I need to tell you."  Riku took a breath, swallowed it.  "What happened."


	24. Far Behind

**24:  Far Behind**  
  
 _September, 1993_  
  
Once upon a time, Riku was a prep.  
  
He didn't think much of this, either.  Most days, it seemed, he didn't think much at all--didn't have to.  He was friends with everyone who mattered, admired by those who fell short of mattering and ignored by those he had no business associating with anyway.  He was good-looking and he knew it, champion of the swim team and he knew it; he could slip through any crack with a charming smile and a sultry voice and the hordes of similarly gifted contemporaries surrounding him.  
  
He thought nothing of it, up until sophomore year.  
  
The summer prior to sophomore year, his parents had sent him to his aunt's place on the coast in a tiny little town called Yachats, and he suspected years later it was because he was probably driving them crazy by being fifteen.  He was fine with that, though--he spent the summer wandering around the beach, collecting shells and sand dollars and making sure not to step on any beached jellyfish, braving the freezing water of the Pacific from time to time.  By the end of June his pale skin had given up and he had a good start on a nice tan, and that was when he met The Boy.  
  
Riku had met girls before.  Had gone out with girls before as his place in society dictated that he have a date for all the important school dances and that he be embroiled from time to time in some kind of girlfriend-related drama.  He dealt with it all, but it all went... strange.  Like a puzzle piece that was the right shape and color and pattern but still didn't quite fit.  It was okay, and it was nice, and even kissing girls once in a while was nice, but...  
  
The Boy excited him in ways no one had ever excited him before.  He was all smiles and whispers and milky sun-kissed skin and the level of want he inspired in Riku was absolutely ridiculous.  It had only lasted two weeks--two weeks of hands and mouths and sweating skin and hundred-degree temperatures and the roiling terror somewhere in his gut that never stopped him from sneaking away anyhow, never kept him away from blankets in the sand at midnight and learning this or that new trick.  Learning how it was, being with a boy.  
  
It was only two weeks, and Riku could never remember his name later.  He remembered what letter it started with, and was pretty sure how it sounded, and sometimes when he really needed a shower or buried his face in his pillow in the middle of the night he would gasp it, just on instinct, but it always escaped him afterwards.  
  
In his mind, Riku just called him The Boy, and he referred to the two weeks as _that_ summer, and by the time he came home in August he had come to terms with it, slowly but surely.  His parents had always told him to trust himself, and to not be afraid of the things he discovered when he did.  
  
He didn't tell anyone at first.  He figured, when he regrouped with his friends, that it should have been obvious that something about him had changed.  He _felt_ different, more grown up, more comfortable with who he was and it was a _good_ feeling and he almost wanted to share it but uncertainty held him back.  He figured he would test the waters a little, tell his closest friends first, the ones he could trust.  
  
Had his friends noticed, though, which would have required them to think something of their lives to begin with--which they didn't, in the same way that Riku didn't--they might have wondered, anyway, if maybe he had discovered some things about himself over the summer break, things that were hiding somewhere just behind his cool demeanor and charming smile.  
  
They might have, but they didn't.  Selphie certainly didn't.  
  
She was a nice enough girl, more bearable than some of the others Riku had kept company with since keeping company with girls had become the thing to do sometime around 7th grade.  She'd been a good friend since he met her freshman year, an amusing conversationalist and constant presence at his side on most days.  The only problem, he realized--oh so unfortunately--too late, was that she had a bad habit of not monitoring the volume of her voice when speaking.  
  
"Anyway--he's totally not a drag racer, I think he just said that to impress her.  I mean, he's not even old enough to _drive_ , right?"  She giggled and leaned back against the lockers, and Riku chuckled along with her, because at the time he knew who she was talking about and actually cared.  To an extent, at least.  "So, I was thinking..." she continued, pushing a brown curl over her shoulder and leaning a bit further towards Riku's open locker, a bit closer to him, "that you might want to take me to the Homecoming dance."  
  
"Oh."  Riku almost dropped his backpack, and if he had it would have exploded on the floor in a sea of textbooks and pencils.  He almost wished it had.  And that amusement was gone, that chuckle and that smile, only nerves playing through him as his gaze darted back and forth between her and the empty air.  "I really can't, Selphie."  
  
She was hurt--he could tell, the way her eyes widened and the corners of her mouth turned down, the way one foot turned in little circles on the floor.  "Oh... I didn't realize you were going with someone else."  
  
"It's not that.  I--"  And the words caught in his throat.  Considering.  Reconsidering.  She was his friend, right?  "It's just--"  He slipped his backpack down to rest against his legs and leaned his head against the edge of the locker.  Trying to breathe, trying to say something.  
  
"It's... me, right?"  She was biting her lip--eyes starting to brim and dammit, he had to tell her _something_.  
  
"No, no!  It's just that..."  His hand on her arm, consoling, assuring that she looked up at him and knew that it wasn't her, that she was a good person and perfectly fine date, just not for him and he wasn't going to get her hopes up like that.  He didn't want to pretend and didn't want to lead her on, he just needed... time, still, time to figure everything out.  His voice was a low hush.  "I don't really... like... girls."  
  
The words hung between them for a moment, understanding dawning across her face in a slow wave.  No disgust, just surprise, and he figured maybe it hadn't been a mistake--  
  
"OH MY GOD YOU'RE GAY!"  
  
Only he'd forgotten, her lack of volume control.  The words seemed to echo down the sophomore hall, until it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  So quiet, in a hall filled to beyond capacity with students, that it was terrifying--a scene ripped straight from a horror flick or the worst of the worst in-the-middle-of-class-in-your-underwear nightmares.  
  
Selphie's hands were wrapped over her mouth, eyes wide, realizing what she'd just done.  Riku stared straight at her without seeing anything, frozen in time, feeling every pair of eyes that turned on him like a brand on his skin.  
  
This was not happening.  This was _not_ happening.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Riku," Selphie whispered behind her hands, real tears starting to stream down her cheeks, over her fingers.  
  
Then the whispering started.  
  
This was the point at which Riku's normal, happy life came to an abrupt and untimely End.  Capitalized.  
  
  
  
  
  
It shouldn't have been this bad.  
  
His friends started finding reasons to not be at their normal meetup places, the fountain at the head of the sophomore hall, the courtyard outside the gym, the corner by the health classroom.  By lunchtime, he had returned to his locker to find the word "FAG" scrawled on the door in dripping blue letters.  When he tried to go to the cafeteria someone shoved him into a bathroom and he had to fight the guy off, barely escaping with less than a busted lip and a few discreet, easily excused bruises.  
  
By the time he arrived, quietly hurt and frustrated and hurrying through the tail end of the line before the lunch ladies closed the doors, all he wanted was to sit down amongst the people he'd known since fifth grade, the people he'd surrounded himself with all this time, who would, if nothing else, act as a buffer to the rest of the world.  He just wanted the relief of being inside the circle.  
  
But when he arrived at his table--their table--all the seats were taken.  He stood there with the tray in his hands as what little was left of the lunch hour ticked away, and no one looked at him.  Not once.  
  
  
  
  
  
Riku gradually became used to his telephone not ringing.  
  
"Did you tell him I called?"  
  
The woman on the phone was patient, her voice always even and polite, just like she was in real life--in his previous life, the one where Riku visited his best friend's house and talked to his best friend's mother and his best friend _returned his goddamned calls_.  "Yes, I told him.  We've had some family issues lately and he's been busy."  
  
"Just--"  Riku wanted to scream some days, wanted to cry others.  "Yeah, okay.  Just tell him I called and I'd really like to talk to him, okay?"  
  
"Of course dear.  Goodbye."  
  
He settled the phone carefully back in its cradle even though he wanted to slam it down.  He reigned himself in, because he had to believe that there was someone out there who wanted to listen.  Who would understand, who would let him talk it out.  
  
Everywhere he looked, all he could see were backs turning.  
  
  
  
  
  
Whenever Riku stared in the mirror these days he just... frowned.  Nothing seemed right anymore, he didn't feel like the boy with the perfect hair and the stylish clothes anymore.  He was changing so much, everything was changing so much and the only thing that seemed to stay the same was the reflection staring back at him from the mirror.  
  
His mom poked her head in the bathroom door, curiosity piqued by the staring.  She crept up behind him for a stealth mom-hug, a quick squeeze and release, and then she brushed his hair back from his face.  Trying in vain to put him in some kind of order.  "Looks like you're due for a cut, sweetie."  
  
"No," Riku said abruptly, so much so that Risa all but jumped, peering at him quietly.  "No, I don't want to cut it."  
  
She frowned, turning over this new side of her offspring in her mind, considering it and filing it away for further contemplation.  "You want to grow it out?"  
  
Riku licked his lips, eyes still on his reflection.  "Yeah."  
  
There was another moment of his mother wondering at him, but after that she decided that enthusiasm for this decision was the proper route to take--grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face her, bright grin on her face.  "Oh honey, you'll look _fabulous_ with long hair.  We'll be beating the girls off with a stick."  
  
Riku nodded along with her, mind someplace far away.  "...Yeah."  
  
  
  
  
  
Selphie approached him for the first time since the Incident (he capitalized it in his head, as the whole ordeal deserved a proper name) a week later, just for a moment in the hall between sign language and biology.  He didn't think he'd seen her smile once in that week, or would again in the weeks to come.  
  
"I hate what they're doing," she whispered fiercely, glaring sideways at the floor and he knew without asking that she was talking about their group--former group, he supposed now.  He hadn't seen her at their lunch table in a few days.  "I can't be one of them anymore.  I can't."  
  
"Yeah, well."  Riku shrugged under his new t-shirt--he'd been shopping; he had his parents return all the school clothes they'd bought him that he'd never worn, that he didn't think he ever would, and went out instead to find something new.  Something that matched everything that was changing, something that separated him from the person he'd been before.  "It's not like they care much, about anything."  
  
"Yeah."  When she looked at him, her eyes were sad.  It was like she was still there in the hallway, hands over her mouth and tears trickling down.  
  
"What are you gonna do now?"  Riku wondered it aloud, not really knowing what there was to do after the popular kids ousted you from their ring of societal safety and glory.  Were there other groups?  Would any of them take in the gay kid?  
  
She laughed, softly.  "You'll never believe it."  She was almost smiling, just for a moment, but it would be a while before the expression made it fully to her face again.  "I joined the drama club."  
  
  
  
  
  
"Did you tell him I called?"  
  
The voice on the other end of the phone was no longer cool and even and motherly.  She was losing her patience, and he was wearing out his telephonic welcome.  "I told him, Riku.  I told him the last seven times you called and I'll tell him again, now, if that's really what you want."  
  
There was so much rage coiling up inside him.  Riku shook with it, limbs trembling with the need to move, to lash out, to just fucking _do something_ even if it didn't help anything.  His insides all felt like they were breaking, the tension too much for his organs to take.  "Tell him," he started, and his voice cracked.  "Tell him I'm not going to call again.  Just.  Tell him that.  That's all."  
  
She sighed, and maybe it was a little sad, maybe a little sorry for him, but that was the end of it, anyway.  "Okay, Riku.  Goodbye."  
  
He hung up quietly.  And then, because there was nothing else to do, he trashed his room.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _October, 1993_  
  
Riku's father told him, patiently, that they weren't going to replace his bookcase.  
  
His parents were starting to notice that something wasn't right with their son.  His look was changing, his attitude was changing, his taste in music was changing, he didn't go out with his friends anymore.  He let his hair grow out until it started to shag a bit and fall in his eyes and brush his shoulders.  He started wearing combat boots and wide-leg jeans and long-sleeved thermals under his t-shirts.  He collected safety pins and learned how to tie hemp and ignored the world around him.  He decided that Trent Reznor was probably god.  
  
He wasn't sure what they suspected, or knew--but he stopped skipping swim practice after he saw the note from his coach sitting on their dining room table.  He figured, if nothing else, he could keep swimming.  He liked it.  The water was always forgiving.  
  
At school, mere existence was a constant uphill battle.  He couldn't open his locker without spray-paint decorating the front of it or something nasty like shaving cream or pop all over its contents--he'd learned to stop keeping anything important in it after losing three textbooks and a weekend's worth of homework to a can of Pepsi.  He couldn't walk down a hall without whispers and sneers following him, without someone shoving him sideways into the rows of lockers, without catcalls and all those nasty words jeered at his back.  Couldn't take a piss without someone in the boys' bathroom trying to start shit.  He couldn't even fucking _eat lunch_ without someone trying to start shit.  
  
It shouldn't have been this bad.  
  
Two weeks after homecoming, Riku decided he was tired of this bullshit.  At lunch, he picked out a corner of the courtyard for himself, and knocked out the teeth of no less than ten guys who tried to jump him for it.  He stood there by his tree and his fence and his ladybugs and wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve and glared at the general area around him, daring anyone else to give it a try.  Wishing they would, just so he could punch someone else.  
  
And that, right there in his most vicious and vulnerable moment, was the first time he felt eyes on him.  Not like the others, the ones that whispered and jeered--this stare was different.  It was cold and even, and very, very blue, and it came from the picnic table in the center of the courtyard where all the metalheads and stoners sat and postured and made a general nuisance of themselves.  It came from a curious bit of blond and flannel sitting at the end of one bench, and it watched him in rapt fascination.  
  
Riku mostly knew Roxas because it was hard not to.  Roxas was a skater, Roxas was a grunge-baby, Roxas had a juvie record from junior high, a bathroom in the sophomore hall that no one with a sense of self-preservation entered and a serious attachment to the principal's office.  Riku had never given him any thought before, just like he'd never given anything else any thought before.  His social status placed him well above boys like Roxas in the student body food chain.  He'd never had reason to give him any thought, up until now.  
  
Somewhere deep down, underneath all the rage and the pain and the hurt and the aching, overwhelming desire to just fucking _destroy_ everything around him, Riku harbored one bright, shiny grain of hope.  A little glowing pinprick of possibility, and for that moment--that fraction of a second that he stood there with fists in the air and blood in his mouth, feeling the space around himself for the next attack, eyes inexplicably locked with the blue gaze staring at him--that flicker became a burning blaze that swelled in his chest, expanding brighter and brighter--  
  
And when the redhead at Roxas's side elbowed him in the ribs, and Roxas abruptly broke the stare to spin away and face his friends, and everyone at the table burst into gales of laughter--it sputtered out and died.  
  
Principal Vandervargen informed him that he was suspended for three days, light punishment because the school had never had problems with him before.  Riku informed him, scowling, that they were about to start having lots of them, and he should keep Riku's file handy.  
  
He sat on the hard bench in the hallway while the principal spoke with his parents, who had arrived with grim looks on their faces and hadn't said anything to him yet.  He stared at the space of wall above Martin Hofferbur's head, and remained in that position even after Olette sat down beside him, setting his backpack on the floor by his feet.  
  
She had been one of the girls, at some point.  He'd taken her to a dance freshman year but couldn't remember which one, now.  It seemed like someone else's life, a dream of some unexplained other, these days.  She was practically a stranger, he couldn't remember anything about her but her freckles.  Not what she'd talked about, what subjects she liked, who her least favorite teacher was.  He should have known those things of someone he'd dated, even briefly, and he didn't.  
  
She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it, and just sat there in silence while he stared at the wall and waited.  And he wanted to trust her, really--he wanted to trust someone, anyone, really, but that last bit of hope was gone and he couldn't believe that there was anyone left in the world who wasn't out to betray him and beat him down.  He was building walls to keep them out, walls of ice and darkness and angry music and scowls and silence.  Sooner or later they would all stay away.  Sooner or later he would just be left alone.  
  
When his parents took him home, they sat him on the couch.  His mother sat next to him, and his father pulled up a chair to sit across from him.  Then Risa said his name in that tone, and he broke.  
  
He cried, with his mother's hand rubbing circles on his back, and told them everything.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mao had said something to the effect of, "Oh, cool!  It's like having _two_ little sisters!"  And then continued while Riku was swinging at him, "Only I don't have to worry about some guy knocking you up."  
  
He figured that was Mao's equivalent of acceptance.  Riku punched him anyway.  
  
  
  
  
  
At school, though, nothing was getting easier.  
  
He could feel the presence at his back, most days.  He sensed it, knew who it was, but the general populous around him always felt the need to point it out, anyway.  
  
"Yo, Riku, your little skater boyfriend wants some attention."  
  
"Check it out, he likes the short blond ones."  
  
"Hey Riku, bet if you got him stoned enough he'd let you suck him off!"  
  
Riku tried to ignore it.  He grit his teeth, and he kept walking, and he refrained from looking back because he knew what he'd see.  
  
When Roxas wasn't in his sign language class and staring, or at his picnic table at lunch staring, then he was wandering a carefully measured distance behind Riku.  If Riku turned around to acknowledge his shadow, though, Roxas would suddenly be paying attention to something else, acting like he was just walking down the hall with all the other kids.  After roughly a dozen times of this happening, though, Riku wasn't buying it anymore.  
  
The student body drew their own conclusions, of course.  
  
It might not have bothered him so much, maybe--bad enough that it was all a sick joke, bad enough that Roxas's senior buddies thought it was the funniest shit on the planet and every time he heard them laughing it just drove a spike deeper into his gut--but to add insult to injury, no one ever bothered Roxas about his feigned infatuation.  No one ever shoved him into bathrooms, no one ever spray-painted his locker or dumped Coke through the vents, no one ever jumped him for wanting a place to eat lunch.  No one followed him around and insulted him--all the words, the jeers and the nastier things, they were all directed at Riku.  
  
It was like everyone was in on the joke.  Like Roxas had taken his jibe even further, performing not only for his friends, now, but for the entire school.  It was like some kind of fucking conspiracy.  
  
And Roxas kept following, and Roxas kept staring, and everything went from bad to worse.  
  
  
  
  
  
Then, of course, there were these freaking _insane_ girls.  
  
They moved in a swarm, and could instantly surround Riku and pin him against whatever was available within seconds, then proceed to coo over him and ask him embarrassing questions.  They were buying Roxas's act, too, and tried convincing him, on a few occasions, to ask the blond out.  This usually induced squealing and sighing from the rest of the group.  
  
Riku decided he really did not understand women.  He also tried to run, most days, but they always caught him.  
  
Until one morning when, hurrying down the main hallway in the general direction of _away_ from the sparkles and pink, a door opened right in his path, Selphie grabbed his hand and yanked him inside.  
  
Strangely, though there was no lock on the door that he could see, when the girls arrived outside they only knocked and prodded, but didn't try to open it and come inside.  Some kind of force or power was keeping them away.  Riku could get used to this.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Selphie was wearing yellow, and it made her look closer to smiling.  Riku sighed, backed further from the door and plopped down onto a bench sitting in the corner.  "Yeah, thanks.  Those girls... they're like the freaking Borg or something."  
  
"You watch Next Generation?"  The voice came from a door deeper in the room--the brightly painted room with the Hollywood-style dressing room mirror, and Riku was beginning to suspect just whom it belonged to.  
  
This is how Riku met Tidus.  
  
The guy had taken extreme liberties with Sunshine that left most of his hair bleached, and he carried himself into the room with a weight that really wasn't necessary.  He paused in the center for some kind of effect, folding his arms firmly.  "That's beside the point, though.  I have a bone to pick with you, Riku."  
  
Riku let his backpack flop from his arm onto the floor, gaping at the kid and the ridiculousness of this entire scene.  "With me," he echoed, too dubious to phrase it in the form of a question.  
  
"Yes.  You, Riku, have diverted the attention of all the homophobes in this school."  The guy asserted this with a sweeping gesture, supposedly to indicate the grand numbers of said bullies.  "No one gives two shits about the drama club anymore, all they care about is making sure that _Riku_ knows he's a fag."  
  
Riku sputtered, grabbing his backpack with every intent of storming back into the hall, girl-Borg or no girl-Borg.  He didn't have to sit there and put up with this, he put up with enough on a daily basis without some bleach-blond punk putting his two cents in.  "Look, man, I don't know who you are or what the fuck your point is, but--"  
  
"Tidus."  His voice was soft and tight, and some of the drama had drained out of him in the span of Riku's tirade.  "And the point is, no one person should have to deal with all that bullshit."  
  
Riku paused on his feet, backpack halfway on.  Trepidation running through his nerves like wildfire.  
  
Tidus nodded to the bench he'd just vacated.  "That seat is for you.  You're welcome to come here, any time for any reason, for however long you want."  
  
He felt himself nodding a little, felt his backpack settling onto his shoulders but all he really wanted, at that point, was to get out of the little room and away.  Sympathy was something he couldn't handle, couldn't trust--no matter how many times Olette brought him his backpack when he was sitting on the hard bench outside the principal's office.  
  
Finally, he licked his lips, murmured, "Yeah, okay, thanks," and hurried out the door, Selphie's sad eyes watching every move, watching him go.  
  
He realized, at some point, that she was always going to be sad when she looked at him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Then, there were days when somehow or other he ended up having to walk home.  
  
It was okay on days like this, a week before Halloween, when the air was crisp and cool without winter chilling it yet.  There were leaves on the sidewalks that crunched under his feet and the breeze made his bangs waver back and forth across his eyes, and with his hands in his pockets he was just warm enough, walking along, backpack pulling at his shoulders.  It would be a long walk, with muscles already tired from swim practice, but at least it would be pleasant, and quiet.  
  
He made it about three blocks before he heard the rattle of skateboard wheels on concrete, somewhere behind him.  
  
Riku tried to dismiss it, at first.  Could be anyone, he told himself, there were plenty of skaters in Bright, and they were still blocks behind him.  They could turn at any time.  He tried to ignore it, and kept walking.  
  
After three more blocks he started walking faster.  
  
What the hell could Roxas possibly want from him here, in the middle of the residential district with the sun drooping low in the sky and no one else around to make witty observations of how Riku had a lovesick puppydog shadowing him?  Was there some other plan in motion?  Was he just tailing him until the rest of his posse showed up to jump him?  What the fuck?  
  
Why couldn't everyone just _stay the fuck away_?  
  
After two more blocks the rolling wheels were right behind him, a steady _thump thump thump_ as they passed over the indents between sidewalk squares and he didn't need to look over his shoulder.  He'd know the blue stare between his shoulderblades anywhere.  
  
The first time he spoke to Roxas, his voice was rough and strained.  "Stop following me."  
  
The space behind him was silent for a moment before being broken by Roxas's voice, haughty and self-impressive.  "I'm not following you.  I just happen to be going the same way."  
  
Riku's stomach clenched, his teeth clenched, and he couldn't believe he'd ever felt a sliver of hope from this goddamned kid.  "Bullshit you are."  
  
"Whatever, man, think what you want."  
  
He started walking faster, but the skateboard kept rolling.  And he might have given Roxas the benefit of the doubt but the fucker could have passed him and gone on wherever he was going ten times already.  Riku scowled at the pavement, the back of his neck twitching with the stare that just wouldn't go away.  "Seriously, back the fuck off."  
  
"I'm not doing anything!"  Roxas's voice echoed Riku's defensive tones, like he had the right to feel wronged for being yelled at for following a guy around.  Deliberately.  It was so, so obviously deliberate, so obviously... _malicious_.  "Fuck, I'm just _skating_ here, you got a problem?"  
  
Riku felt his pulse speeding, that same rage vibrating through his bones and burning through his blood--he wanted to break something, something bigger and more permanent than his bookshelf.  Burn the school down.  Destroy the entire fucking world.  
  
He slowed down a little, just enough that Roxas nearly drew level with him, then kicked the skateboard out from under his feet.  
  
Roxas had a scrape on his cheek when he picked himself up off the sidewalk, brilliant scowl on his face, blue eyes burning in fury, hands balled into fists.  "What the fuck is your problem?"  
  
" _You_."  Riku spat the word like a rotten taste out of his mouth.  "Are my fucking problem."  
  
Maybe, if he had been paying attention, maybe if he cared, he might have noticed how some of that fire died.  Might have noticed how Roxas was ready for a fight in one second and gradually backing down the next.  Might have seen a little quiver of something back behind his expression.  
  
Then again, if Riku _had_ seen it, he might have only noted it in triumph that someone else was finally hurting the way that he did.  
  
"Fuck off."  Riku said the words with a kind of venom he didn't think he'd ever used before--and he didn't really like it, his conscience didn't like it but it made the rage in his chest feel justified and powerful.  Like maybe he had some control over all of this after all.  "Stay away from me."  
  
Roxas, after a moment of just standing there with the back of his hand against his bleeding cheek, staring, abruptly grabbed his skateboard off the lawn where it had landed, and stalked away.  
  
It took Roxas hours to actually get home, but Riku didn't know this.  When he did get home he ignored the maid and the smell of food from the kitchen and trudged up the stairs and locked the door to his room.  He turned his stereo up to a deafening volume and beat his fists against the wall and screamed, but Riku didn't know this.  When he was done screaming he climbed down his trellis and skated over to his best friend's basement and slept on his couch because he needed the presence of someone who understood even if he didn't want to talk about it, but Riku didn't know this.  
  
Riku walked the rest of the way home with a tremor in his body that was like relief and despair all mashed together.  The scene would be vivid in his mind for years to come, but he would never wonder about it again.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Things don't have to be like this, you know," Riku's father told him, sometime before Christmas while his sister was rolling a snowman in the back yard.  "If this is who you are, then take possession of that.  Own it.  If you fight it, they'll just fight you back.  But if you own it, they have nothing to beat out of you.  Right?"  
  
Two days later, when someone in the hall called Riku goddamn homo, he smiled softly and said, "That's right," and went on about his day.  
  
By junior year, Riku had built a solid wall around himself and the parts of school that he inhabited.  The edge of the social humiliation had passed, people were whispering less and talking about other scandals more.  He had breathing space, and he didn't have to fight for it anymore.  
  
Roxas never approached him again.  And if he caught the edges of a blue stare sometime during sign language or lunch or somewhere in the hall, Riku ignored it, and soon enough it vanished entirely.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _November, 1995_  
  
Riku was staring at the space of floor between his toes, elbows on his legs and hands dangling between his knees.  The way his hair fell around his face, sitting like this, was like a curtain.  Sora had reached over and pushed some of it behind Riku's ear so he could actually see some of his expression.  
  
"It just... it was such a horrible time, you know?"  Riku murmured it, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  Eyes still fixed on the yellowed linoleum flooring the dressing room had been gifted with sometime in the seventies.  "I guess I always felt kind of bad about it, but... I felt so _justified_.  Like I'd taken all the shit that was happening and piled all the fault on him, so when I told him off it felt like I'd told _everyone_ off.  Like I'd gotten back at them all somehow."  He barked a laugh, reached up to push his hair back out of his face only to have it fall back how it was, even messier.  "You--you were right, Sora.  I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
Outside the little room the school was between classes, the tap of feet walking, the murmur of a thousand voices chattering, the shuffle and scuttle of papers and books shifting.  It was muted, through the door, white noise to highlight the silence.  Riku stayed where he was, and Sora leaned back against the wall, one foot up on the edge of the bench.  Rested one hand in the middle of Riku's back, warm through the two layers of shirt.  
  
Riku had done the same for him, weeks ago now, on that first, awful day.  
  
"It really is okay."  Sora reiterated, because it needed to be said.  Because it was true.  
  
"No it fucking isn't!"  Riku sat up finally, faced him finally, and Sora didn't think he'd ever seen him that torn, even when they were fighting.  "How could I be that fucking dense, Sora?  How could I be so pissed off at the world that I couldn't see past my own goddamn nose?"  
  
"But that's it, isn't it?"  Sora drew his hand away, frowning, not sure how to balance this scenario anymore--not with Riku, anyway.  "You were angry, you were hurt, you were a fucking _sophomore_.  There's nothing you can do about it now."  
  
Riku leaned back against the wall, groaned a little and stared up at the ceiling.  Reached up to rub his forehead, pull the hand down over his face like wiping the expression away, although it didn't really disappear.  After a few minutes of staring silently in a different direction, Riku's attention shifted sideways again, back to Sora.  More trepidation in the look now.  "Are we okay?"  
  
Sora considered this, slipped his hand into Riku's and threaded their fingers together, offering a little squeeze.  "Ask me tomorrow."  
  
Riku nodded slightly, murmured a small, hesitant, "Mmkay" in amongst the motion, and Sora stood, dragging his backpack off the floor to shrug back into it.  Riku remained motionless on the bench, and Sora figured he could stay there a while longer if he felt like it.  That's what it was there for, after all.  
  
"Thank you for telling me," he said softly, moving towards the door, offering Riku a smile that promised things were going to get better--and he hoped, all the way down to his gut, that he was right.  "I really appreciate it.  And I think..."  Sora trailed off, hand on the doorknob, licking his lips and the smile brightened.  "I know what to do now."


	25. Live Forever

**25:  Live Forever**  
  
The world ended on a Tuesday, and that probably should have surprised someone--in the grand scheme of things, Tuesdays were neither particularly important nor particularly bad and the world, in all it's enormity and splendor, had no business choosing such a plain day in which to come to a catastrophic end.  But as it was, it was a Tuesday, and the end of the world involved only Roxas, standing frozen in the middle of the senior hallway, staring at his locker.  
  
Around him the pulse and movement of the morning continued, students forming an arc around where he was standing to get past, move on to class.  Some of them took interest in whatever had him so bemused, in whatever made a slight tremor pass through him that resulted in his fingers going limp and letting his skateboard clatter to the floor.  Some of them, upon seeing the locker and the scrawl of green paint across it, snickered or chuckled or made some unheard comment to a friend and continued on their way.  Some of them hung back and whispered or elbowed each other, waiting to see what would happen.  Some of them paused in confusion, looking from the locker to Roxas and back again, watching the mounting panic wash over his features.  Maybe they could tell that his gut was twisting around itself, that his reality was slowly collapsing and condensing right into this point, right here--him, and the poison-green graffiti tag on his locker.  
  
There were a lot of things that it could have said to get the point across, but the word "HOMO" in all capitals was timeless and to the point, less an insult and more a declaration of fact.  
  
Roxas, in another situation, might have passed it off as a mere insult.  But not today, not after his confrontation in the hall with Riku the morning before.  This had been deliberate, a vicious and pointed challenge.  
  
And when some passerby flippantly and loudly made the comment of, "Dude, is _everyone_ in this school gay anymore or what?", Roxas snapped.  
  
Roxas snapping involved, largely, him stumbling backwards, then nearly tripping and grabbing for his skateboard, then racing down the hallway through and among and between the crowds of students moving through the hall with a bored kind of direction, never stopping or slowing much until the door to the boys' bathroom swung shut behind him.  Didn't stop at all until he shoved the stall door closed, turning the lock and backing away from it, skateboard clutched over his chest as though afraid someone had followed and the great unknown that had lived in his fears and probabilities all these years loomed outside, a gigantic, yawning blackness waiting to swallow him up.  
  
He stumbled backwards, landed on the toilet seat and curled up there, skateboard cradled in his arms like a child's security blanket.  He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to calm, forced his breath to slow back to normal, willed his heart to stop pounding.  
  
There had to be some kind of logic to this.  Someone had done this, some single person with the desire to shove Roxas into the spotlight.  All he had to do was find that person, and kick his ass.  
  
Simple.  It should have been just that simple.  
  
  
  
  
  
Wisely, for once, no one entered his bathroom that day.  The rumor mill was strong, the student body was wary, and there was an ingrained sense among them--instilled back in their junior high years--that Roxas should probably not be fucked with.  How that translated to one of them having the balls to tag his goddamn locker, he could only venture a guess; and thus far, his guesses were not making the situation appear any brighter.  
  
By the time the lunch hour rolled around, though, it turned out there was at least one person in the school with a death wish, and he sauntered into the bathroom without any care for the aura of stay-the-fuck-away and cigarette smoke emanating from Roxas's stall.  He paused in front of the locked door, and Roxas knew him both by the walk and the scuffed no-brand sneakers on his feet.  "Hey man."  
  
"Fuck off, Hayner."  
  
"No."  He said it with a tilt in his voice, like he was smiling wryly at the closed door.  Roxas scowled at it, hoping he could envision the same thing.  "Can I come in?"  
  
"Fuck no.  Go away."  
  
There was a pause outside, and for a moment Roxas thought he really was going to turn and leave and for some reason, despite what his words were insisting, the idea of that made his throat clench.  After that pause, though, Hayner just chuckled, muttered "Whatever", and proceeded to hunch down and slide under the stall door, feet first.  
  
Once his head was through Hayner righted himself enough to sit back against the door, knees pulled up and elbows resting atop, hands twining in the space between them as he regarded Roxas, who was seated against the wall in a similar fashion, as far back on the toilet as possible, feet propped on the lip.  Cigarette in his left hand, burning towards the filter unnoticed.  
  
"That floor is disgusting," Roxas observed, finally flicking away the ash and taking a drag.  
  
"So is that toilet."  
  
"Not as much as the floor, at least they clean the toilets once in a while."  
  
Hayner's expression was flat and unimpressed.  "I'll wash my hands."  
  
Roxas made a hissing noise, like he really expected that to be sufficient recompense for sitting on the grody floor, and reached around his leg to deposit the smoldering cigarette into the toilet.  The hiss as it hit the water echoed the sound Roxas had made.  
  
A minute passed, maybe.  There was nothing to mark the time in here, the halls were silent, everyone still in fourth period and waiting to be released for lunch.  Sora would be sitting behind Riku in English, pondering, maybe, whether it was time to accept his boyfriend's apology.  Sora was still speaking to Riku; he hadn't said more than five words to Roxas since declaring that he wanted to switch rooms on Sunday night.  
  
Finally, Hayner stopped twisting his fingers around each other, letting his hands fall limp, hemp and lanyard and an ancient snap-bracelet slipping further down on his wrists.  His voice was low and contemplative.  "Why didn't you just tell us, man?"  
  
"You know," Roxas started, shook his head with teeth bared in some kind of self-effacing grin, reaching up to shove a hand back through his hair violently.  "Everyone acts like I'm being so fucking irrational.  Axel, Z, Sora, that bitch from the drama club, fucking _all_ of you.  Do you just--" he paused again and shifted like he wanted to be on his feet, wanted to be storming around the room to satisfy all the coiled energy in his muscles but he wasn't leaving the stall, not while that hungry, gaping darkness was still somewhere beyond.  "Did you all just conveniently _forget_ what happened to Riku?  Because it sure as fuck is fresh in my mind."  
  
"Riku was an anomaly."  Hayner said it with a kind of patience he didn't possess, normally.  With the same cool, even stare he'd been giving Roxas since he slid under the door.  That was the kind of thing Zexion would say; he must have told them after the scene at the skate park.  Hayner must be parroting his logic.  "Nothing like that had ever happened to our class before."  
  
"How does that change anything?  How does that change what it means to me?"  Roxas shifted his feet, felt the porcelain squeaking under his soles.  He wanted to pace, dammit.  "Every single one of his friends dropped him like a hot fucking coal.  Like he was _dog shit_ , like--"  
  
"They couldn't have been very good friends to begin with, then."  Hayner licked his lips and wove his fingers together, and that was more the kind of thought he would have on his own.  "Right?"  
  
Roxas paused for a moment like he was taking this into consideration--and he was, but he thought, ultimately, that he didn't really know those people or what kind of relationship Riku had with them, so who was he to judge, really?  What he considered more, though, were those fingers woven together, and after that pause he darted forward suddenly, muscles happy to finally be moving, feet happy to finally be on the ground and active, and he grabbed Hayner by both wrists and yanked him up, turning over both hands to examine them.  All the lines and crevices, the space under his fingernails, searching for any sign of green paint.  
  
That was how the scuffle began, Roxas trying to look and Hayner jerking in his grasp, trying to pull his hands back.  "The fuck, Roxas--"  
  
"Don't act like you know what you're talking about, you're not in my position, you don't know what it's like--"  
  
"It doesn't matter if I know or not, fucking let me go, man--"  
  
"You come in here to give me shit for being afraid of something I have every fucking right to be afraid of--"  
  
"I DIDN'T TAG YOUR FUCKING LOCKER, LET ME GO!"  
  
Roxas loosened his grip and Hayner jerked away, and the snap-bracelet on his wrist flew off and landed in a dejected curl on the floor.  
  
Both of them were breathing too hard from something that could have been a serious fight, maybe, but Roxas considered, passing the back of his hand across his mouth, that he didn't really want to fight Hayner, no matter how tightly wound he was.  He took a deep breath instead, watched his friend scowl and bend down to snatch his wayward bracelet up.  
  
"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about, asshole."  Hayner kept a cautious distance from Roxas, carefully returning the bit of metal and fabric to its rightful place on his left wrist.  It was yellow, he noticed, with stylized orange suns patterned across it, worn and faded with age.  "You don't fucking trust anyone.  Riku trusted all the wrong people but you won't even _try_ to trust the right ones."  He didn't wait for Roxas to come up with a response, just barreled ahead, arms dropping to his sides but his fists still flexed in a kind of warning.  "Yeah, you have the right to be afraid, I get that.  No I don't know what it's like, I get that, too.  But if it had been me, if I did know it--I would have told you."  He turned, finally, flipped the lock to the stall door open and stalked halfway out, one hand on the edge, then turned back around with one last thought, brown eyes blazing.  
  
"I don't know who tagged your locker, but I'll tell you what--they had the right idea.  Because if someone--I don't care who--doesn't make you do something, you're gonna piss your fucking life away in a goddamned bathroom stall, Rox.  Whether you wanted this or not, it's fucking done.  Man it up."  
  
The stall door banged closed when Hayner left, and the bathroom door creaked slowly in counterpoint, dropping to rest quietly on its hydraulics.  And it wasn't until the echo had faded and the last wooden tap of the door in its frame had passed that Roxas realized there were still things he wanted to say, and ask.  Whether Hayner was really okay with this.  Whether the others were, too.  If he'd talked to Axel since Sunday.  
  
After a minute or two of realizing these questions and wondering about them, and of feeling decidedly foolish for hiding on a goddamn toilet of all places, he picked up his skateboard and edged out of the stall, still certain that an enormous something was waiting somewhere to gobble him up, still certain that he didn't like not knowing, that the unknown was too big for him to venture through, but there was one thing he could focus on and hopefully that would keep the gaping void away.  
  
Someone out there, in the halls now filling at the sound of the bell, had green spray-paint under his or her fingernails.  Roxas was going to find them.  
  
  
  
  
  
By the end of the day, the search was probably futile--the rumor mill, as always, was running strong and with as many hands as Roxas had grabbed randomly after he reappeared during lunch period to examine their fingers, by sixth period people were shoving their hands in their pockets whenever he came near.  
  
The culprit, he figured by the time he stalked into detention and plopped into a seat, had probably gone and given his hands a good scrub by now.  For a while, as the mockery of punishment passed, he scribbled out his math homework and stared three rows ahead at Riku's back, pointedly seated three desks away from Sora's, wondering.  Replaying the morning before in his head.  Considering if Riku really would have done that in spite, after what he'd gone through.  Wondered if he really hated Roxas or if he honestly believed what he said, that Roxas had tried to make life worse for him that year.  
  
He didn't think he remembered it being that bad.  He didn't think he had followed Riku around that much.  Maybe a little.  What he remembered, mostly, was Riku himself--Riku in the sophomore hall that day, frozen in place with a look of stupefied incredulity carved in stone on his face.  Riku dejected and cast out by his circle of friends.  Riku defending his chosen lunch spot, blood on his face, hair everywhere and eyes blazing--like a cornered animal, wounded and feral.  
  
Roxas had every right to be afraid.  And after some thought, without even checking his hands, he decided that Riku hadn't done it.  
  
He cut across the auxiliary fields when he walked home, pushing through the dead bushes and leaves to get to the parking lot, dragging his feet through half-melted patches of snow all the way.  So it made sense, then, that Sora had beat him home.  It made sense, being as the kid was bored these days and didn't have a hockey team to play with, that Sora was in the back corner of the parking lot on his skates with his hockey stick, batting around a little orange ball.  
  
It didn't make sense that when Sora spotted him, he paused, straightened, and pushed his hands in his pockets, shrugging a little as he looked Roxas over, concern and reconsideration, maybe, playing over his face.  "Hey."  
  
"Sora."  He paused himself, licked his lips, looked down to the bulge of fabric where Sora's hands were fisted in his pockets, hockey stick in the crook of his elbow.  Then back up, watched Sora's eyes flicker as they met his gaze, then dart to the side.  
  
Sora hunched his shoulders, cleared his throat, before finally looking at Roxas again, and then his face was blank, his voice was cool and even.  "I'm sorry."  
  
Roxas felt his stomach drop out from under him and all he could really manage to say was a brief, broken little " _No,_ " before he lunged forward, grabbed Sora's right hand and wrenched it out of his pocket, and maybe he should have seen it earlier.  He knew what he'd find, and there it was like bloody fingerprints, perfect evidence.  Flaking green paint around Sora's nails, bits of it still clinging in the crevices of his skin.  
  
"What--what did you do?"  He was shaking, bone-deep, and he didn't know if it was rage or something else, and they were moving, he already had a hold of Sora's wrist and Roxas used it for leverage--Sora was surprisingly agile on his skates but Roxas got his feet out from under him somehow and then they were on the pavement, his knees hit and Sora's nails dug into his collarbone, shoving him away.  "What did you do, Sora, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"  
  
And his fist was pulling back, he was ready and this was everything, all he had ever feared, all his possibilities and nightmares and the worst of the worst of anything that could have happened was _this_ , just as he'd always imagined.  Betrayal.  
  
Sora, though, he didn't wait for the fist to drop.  He reached up, grabbed two handfuls of Roxas's flannel and shook him so hard that his teeth rattled.  "I SAVED YOU!"  
  
It might have been slow motion, how Roxas fell back on his heels, how Sora shoved away from him to lever himself upright, hissing and examining the scrape on his elbow now from their combined collision with the pavement.  His stick was somewhere to the side, the little orange ball far away and dejected against a parking block.  Roxas was still shaking.  The wind rattled the leaves in the trees overhead, blew them down to skid dryly across the ground.  
  
"I kept wondering all this time," Sora said eventually, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head up to watch the leaves float down.  "Why it was, that you were eighteen but you wouldn't tell anyone.  That you were an adult but you wouldn't act like it.  And then it came to me, and it was so simple--it's because you _aren't_ an adult.  You can't stand the idea of it, all that responsibility, of doing things that will matter, that will change the future.  When you're a kid, it doesn't matter if you fuck up, because you're just a kid.  It's no big deal, there's no permanent record, people expect you to screw up anyway.  But when you're an adult, and you fuck up, you have no one to blame but yourself.  And there's no one to deal with it but you.  No parents, no teachers, no one to tell you what's right and wrong, what the rules are, what path to take.  That's a scary thing to face all on your own.  It's a scary choice to make, whether you're going to take control and decide your own fate or just let life beat you down and hope for the best."  
  
Sora plucked a stray leaf from where it caught on the edge of his rollerblade, twirled it in his fingers and considered Roxas from beyond it, gaging his reaction, maybe, wondering if the things he had figured out really made sense out loud, in the light of day.  His eyes were so blue, out here in the cold, and so intense with all these ideas that were tumbling out of him.  And Roxas considered that maybe Riku had been right, after all--if maybe in some small, hidden way he really did want Sora for himself.  
  
"When all of this started, Riku told me--you can fight this, or you can own it."  Sora watched the leaf spin, something wistful in the smile he offered it that made Roxas's insides clench and ache.  "And I've decided what I want to do.  Because you know, anyone can fight something.  It's natural, even, to want to fight things sometimes, and sometimes that's just what boys do.  But owning up to something, whether that means accepting who you are, admitting you were wrong, taking the hard path because it's the right thing to do--owning it, that's what _men_ do."  Sora met his eyes, licked his lips, folded his hands in his lap and waited for Roxas to react.  "I realized, at some point, that no one ever gave you that choice.  So I did."  
  
Roxas felt like all his bones had turned to water.  He was still trembling, just a little, and there was a voice in the back of his head screaming for everyone to just leave him alone, why couldn't anyone understand, why did everyone have to push him all the time, but after everything Sora said that voice was sounding whiny and childish.  
  
Sora's head was tilted back again, and he laughed at the fluttering leaves.  "When you think about it, this is a pretty incredible time.  I mean, growing up--that's something you only get to experience once in your life, and then it's gone.  And in some ways, maybe that's a good thing, but in others... I don't know, sometimes I want to take these moments that are right on the edge, right on the line in between, and bottle them up so I can keep them forever.  We'll never be in this place again, Roxas."  He leaned forward suddenly, pushed to his feet and dusted himself off, letting the leaf tumble back to the ground.  "It's just a matter of how you're going to continue from here."  
  
Roxas stayed on the pavement when Sora left, listening to the sound of his wheels grow fainter, listening to the sound of the childish voice in his head grow fainter.  And he started thinking, while the cold seeped into his bones and he got up to walk and stave it off.  Started really thinking, for the first time in a long time--maybe ever--about just what the hell he was doing, and why.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora considered, while slicing through a patch of bushes for rupees, that there was something to Roxas's theory of using detention for homework.  Finishing his math and government assignments, having nothing else to do at the time, resulted in him then having free time for solo practice in the parking lot, followed by video games.  Of course, in between those two things he'd been forced to give Roxas the epiphany he desperately needed, but Sora didn't want to brag.  It was all in a day's work.  
  
He, personally, felt better than he had in weeks.  His mental notes had been slipped neatly into files and sent to storage, the mess left behind in the wake of his mental tornado was cleaned up and cleared out, and the two concepts, satisfied that their work here was done, hefted up their couch and wandered away to take up residence in some other teenager's mental space.  Riku's story brought everything together, and now it was just a matter of moving on from here.  Moving forward.  
  
He wasn't really surprised when someone knocked on the door, simply paused the game and called "Come in," without leaving his seat on the top bunk, kicking his legs where they dangled in the open air.  Watching as Riku opened the door and cautiously peered in and around the room.  
  
"He's not here," Sora murmured.  
  
"I didn't think he would be."  Riku closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the room, eyes on the linoleum at first before he stopped, hands tugging at the sleeves of his thermal, and looked up at Sora.  "When you said you knew what to do, that wasn't really what I had in mind."  
  
"It's what he needed."  Sora tapped his fingers against the underside of the controller for a moment, then set it aside.  "He can't make excuses anymore."  
  
"Yeah, but..."  Riku paced a bit more, paused at the edge of the bunkbed so he was leaning against the cornerpost.  "It wasn't really fair, was it?"  
  
Sora leaned forward on his elbows and smiled down at Riku, the way he was frowning and still couldn't keep looking at him for very long.  "No, but this isn't about what's fair."  
  
The room was silent for a while, Riku staring at the mussed blankets covering the lower bunk.  Sora twisted and dropped down onto the floor, wandered over to switch his game off and stow the controller.  When he turned back around Riku was shifting, looking up hesitantly.  "Its just... like everything is coming apart now.  Things that I thought were the truth aren't, all the motivations I thought everyone had--maybe it was all in my head.  Nothing is the way it's supposed to be, the way I envisioned it.  Maybe all of this, maybe it was really nothing.  Maybe I'm going to graduate in six months and I'll head off on my own and no one will ever care about any of this again."  
  
Sora pressed his tongue against his lower lip, considering this, considering Riku and it was almost like seeing him for the first time.  Safety pins and silver hair and pink and green highlighter on his fingernails and it still made a little thrill run down his spine.  "Really?"  
  
Riku tensed up for a second, shoulders up, then relaxed, exhaling with a slight laugh.  "No, not really, it just... kind of feels like that."  
  
He nodded, smiling a little and looked out the window, noted the waning sunset and how late it was getting and wondered where Roxas was.  "Kind of like someone went into your room and moved everything two inches to the left?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I think," Sora pondered, turning back to Riku and moving toward him, into his personal space until he could see the melon-green of his eyes and feel his warmth without touching, "it'll get better."  
  
When Sora hugged him, Riku deflated like a balloon, all but fell into his arms, wrapped tight around him and buried his face in the crook of Sora's neck, shivered with the long sigh he let out.  Sora smiled at the hair tickling his nose, ran fingers through it to brush it away, and this--this felt even _better_.  Everything was coming together now, and Riku still smelled like bar soap and chlorine, although Sora wasn't sure when he'd even been in a pool last.  Everything had been so crazy, for so long.  
  
It was quite a while until Riku drew back, tucking hair behind his ear and watching Sora curiously, licking his lips.  His voice was regaining its old confidence, and even the corner of his mouth twitched up a bit, a move towards the old smirk.  "Are we okay?"  
  
"Almost."  Sora squeezed his shoulders in reassurance before pulling away, noting the window and the failing light once again, considering how far and what direction Roxas might have gone.  He offered Riku a smile, promise and encouragement.  "There's something you need to fix first."


	26. All Apologies

**26:  All Apologies**  
  
Sometime between the fade of sunset and before the silver of moonlight began to wash over the grass and wood chips, the slide and the monkey bars, it started to get cold.  Roxas didn't move, though, staring down at his toes where they were dangling over the groove in the sand worn from years of kids using the tire swing, arms crossed over the thick tread, chin nestled in flannel sleeves, the chain holding the contraption aloft cold against his cheek.  
  
There was a time when this had been his spot, back in the years before Roxas had decided he wanted to hang out in the skate park with the big kids instead.  Back when things were simple, when his father's mansion housed a complete family, when the biggest obstacle he had to surmount was whatever kid had decided to hog _his_ tire swing.  Back when he still remembered why Hayner still wore that snap bracelet.  
  
It had to do with fourth grade, and Hayner's birthday, and the cupcakes that his mother didn't have the time or money to bring to their class.  Roxas only had a vague understanding, at that time, of what money and poverty and those kinds of things meant.  He did understand that Hayner got angry when he was upset about something, because Roxas did the same thing--so he gave Hayner a snap bracelet, because he was the only kid in their class who didn't have one, and if you couldn't have cupcakes for your birthday then you should at least get a present.  That was what Roxas figured, anyway.  
  
Roxas figured, now, that he was a fucking idiot.  
  
Maybe Riku had trusted the wrong people, but at least he trusted them at all--he had a right to trust his friends, didn't he?  It was their duty to stand by him, wasn't it?  It was their failure for not doing so, not Riku's for believing they would.  
  
...did he still trust Sora, after all this?  Whether it was for his own good or not?  (Had he ever really trusted Sora to begin with?)  
  
Friendship was never meant to be so complicated, he was sure.  It was supposed to be easy and profound, not fraught with these little doubts and uncertainties.  At some point, though, everything had started changing, and that was around the point that Roxas started digging in his heels.  
  
The chain creaked a little when the breeze disturbed him, making the swing sway from side to side, just slightly.  The sand under his feet turned in a lazy half-circle, the moon began to provide just enough illumination that Roxas and his swing cast a dim shadow that moved with him.  
  
Maybe it was Axel that started everything.  
  
He'd been... _so cool_ , a real, badass junior high kid, larger than life, messy red hair and bright green eyes and at twelve years old Roxas had never had a crush before but this boy made his stomach do flips.  There was nothing in the world more important than finding a way to make him think that Roxas was cool, too, and that had to have been the point when everything changed.  
  
Naminé had been eight--a very mature eight, unfairly, but it made her easier to talk to sometimes.  He'd made a comment offhand, sometime between commercials one Friday night waiting for _Full House_ to come back on, about finding a way to get Axel to notice him.  And Nami had laughed a little, nervously, and said, "I don't think you're supposed to want boys to notice you, Roxas.  You're supposed to want _girls_ to notice you."  
  
It had ended with a squabble over girls and how crazy they were; she countered with _knowing_ that he'd been sneaking into her room to steal her New Kids on the Block tapes and that normal big brothers were supposed to be reading her diary or something.  He countered with how did she know he _wasn't_ and what did that have to do with anything anyway.  She asked who his favorite was; he answered "Jordan" without a pause to think, and she sighed like that was supposed to explain everything.  Right before the commercial break ended she had finished him off with a blunt, "Well, Roxas, if you like boys that much and want them to notice you, that means you're gay, and people don't like that."  
  
That was the last real conversation they had before the summer ended and she went back to Seattle.  
  
He didn't think she'd meant to be so discouraging; their world view had been so small and gossip-ridden, back then.  But she'd planted the seed of an idea in his head that he wasn't normal, and it only grew as he moved into the world of junior high and things like sex and deviancy became the hot topic of conversation.  
  
Axel had been the beginning of all this--the thing that had drawn him away from this tire swing to begin with and the thing that drove him right back here, to this same place on Saturday night, still in frozen denial that it had really happened.  That Axel had just walked away, left him.  Ended it.  There had been something tense and unhappy between them for a while, he thought, but he figured they'd work it out and it would go away sooner or later.  
  
He didn't want to think that he was the one being unreasonable.  He didn't want to think that he was the one who caused this, like Zexion said.  Didn't want to think he was the one unwilling to compromise but if he really thought about it, it he was honest, that was the truth.  Axel had always deferred to him, always done things Roxas's way because Roxas was afraid of the world and the unknown and losing everything the way Riku had lost everything.  Axel had been reasonable and patient and compromising and had come away from Roxas with nothing to show for it.  
  
Would it really be that bad?  (Yes, yes it could be.)  But could it be worth it?  
  
The sound of sand crunching underfoot made him stir for the first time in hours, lifting his head just enough to turn and look.  Roxas wasn't sure who he expected to see walking across the playground towards him, wasn't sure who he would have thought would arrive first to try and snap him out of his daze, but...  
  
Riku, hands in his pockets and too coordinated with the moonlight, silver hair and safety pins and breath coming in tiny white puffs, would not even have come into consideration.  Yet there he was, slowing as he got close enough to murmur a "Hey," then stopping entirely to drop and sit on the edge of the slide, arms crossed over his knees.  
  
Everything was quiet for a few minutes, both of them turned to contemplate the sand under their feet, then Riku broke it with a loud breath, white in the air, something self-effacing in the non-sound.  "Goddamn, it's cold out here."  
  
Roxas felt the instinctive urge to tell him to just fuck off, then, but something was startled enough by his presence to quell it.  He hissed softly instead, slight movements making him more aware of the cold air around himself, and he muttered finally, "What are you doing here?"  
  
Riku looked up from his contemplation of the groove at the foot of the slide, rubbing one foot in the sand, and there was something... _raw_ in the way he stared at Roxas, like he'd never seen him before, like he'd just wandered into a park with a stranger and wasn't sure how to start a conversation.  He turned back down to the sand, apparently a safer place to look, and reached up to push his overgrown bangs back behind his ear.  "I've been talking to Sora a lot the last couple of days."  
  
"Well, at least he's talking to someone."  Roxas leaned back a little, dug in his flannel pocket for the pack of cigarettes there and flipped it open--and fuck if it wasn't empty.  He cursed under his breath, crushed the offending box in a fist and flung it away, resuming his previous position with new determination.  He was going to brood, dammit, and he was going to brood _hard_ and if Riku was going to be there he could just sit and watch.  
  
Roxas was determined to ignore.  So determined, in fact, that he almost missed what Riku said next.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
The night was so quiet, not even the sound of traffic from three streets over broke through it.  Roxas froze in place, fingers curled around the rim of the tire, not sure if he was really hearing what he thought he was hearing or what it was really in reference to until Riku's voice broke around the quieter echo of it.  
  
"I am so fucking sorry."  
  
His head filled with images of angled sunlight and a leaf strewn sidewalk and staring at Riku's hunched shoulders, the safety pins on his backpack, watching how his hair moved when he walked.  Clenching his fists around sweaty palms.  Balking when sea-green eyes glared over his shoulder, wishing they'd look at him with something other than annoyance, heart pounding in his ears and trying and trying and _trying_ to get the words to form in his mouth--  
  
For a minute, it was like it had just happened.  Like he was still standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, scrape on his cheek, bruises on his knees, skateboard on the lawn, learning for the first time what it was like to feel your heart rip itself into pieces.  Watching Riku walk away, watching him disappear down the road and knowing despite all the anger and denial swirling around himself that he'd blown it.  
  
But he was staring at Riku as he was now, sitting at the bottom of the slide, watching his toes nudge clumps of sand around.  Older, wiser, tamer version of the wild, unpredictable thing he'd been back then.  
  
Roxas swallowed around the lump in his throat, felt his voice betray him and waver.  "You really thought it was a joke?"  
  
"I... fuck, I don't know what I thought."  Riku shrugged and deflated, both hands over his face, then running back through his hair.  "Just... every time you were following me, things got worse.  A lot worse.  And whenever you stared your friends all laughed.  It just--"  He paused, voice caught, let out a breath like wishing it all away.  "It all built up in my head, I guess."  
  
The breeze caught the tire swing again, moved it back and forth and for a moment he did his best to see things from Riku's perspective.  It was strange, stepping outside himself, trying to pinpoint those moments, trying to remember what was really going on when he was wrapped up with himself and this idea of Riku.  The possibility, bright and golden and forbidden, right in front of him.  He laughed, softly, sharply--self-deprecation, shaking his head.  "Fuck.  I should have said something."  
  
It was all he had to do.  All he had to do, that day, just open his mouth, and _say something_.  
  
Riku was shaking his head, toe finally kicking the sand away and resettling on his knees, a bit lower, hunched around himself.  "No.  If I hadn't been so pissed off at the world, so fucking wrapped up in myself, I would have seen it."  
  
"I was gonna tell you."  Roxas murmured it to the fabric covering his arms, chin settling back on the tire.  "That day, on the sidewalk."  
  
"Yeah."  Riku's voice was tired, breath heavy in the cold.  "I figured that out."  
  
"I should have said something."  
  
He heard Riku move without seeing it, the creak of the slide, crunch of sand, and then the swing stopped swaying, one hand on the tire steadying it.  Riku stood there, quiet and present, until Roxas gave in and looked up.  
  
It was really too dark to see properly, but even with the gray and shadows Riku had never looked that serious before--not for him, anyway.  His voice was low and strangely sympathetic.  "You didn't deserve that."  
  
There wasn't really an agreement, or a verbal handshake, or any other kind of special moment where wounds healed, egos reformed, and everything was magically better.  Just the point at which Roxas decided he was going to accept that and not argue anymore, and Riku understood this, and they both felt rather like they'd just let out a breath they'd been holding far too long.  It was simple that way; unspoken.  
  
And then Roxas said, "We'd've killed each other within two weeks, anyway."  
  
Riku paused, just for an instant, then his face broke into a dazzling smile and he laughed, just briefly, one hand reaching up to push his hair back.  "Got a point, there."  
  
Roxas didn't really laugh, just made a humming sound behind his arms that approached a chuckle, wondering why he'd never seen Riku like this before.  It was like meeting him for the first time, like the look Riku had worn when he arrived at the park.  Strange, new, uncertain.  
  
He sobered soon enough, licked his lips and returned his hands to his pockets, checking the sand under his shoes before regarding Roxas again, thoughtfully.  "I know it's none of my business, but Sora said you and your boyfriend had a fight on Saturday.  Which explains a lot, but--"  
  
"Axel broke up with me."  Roxas's voice was muffled, and he had to remind himself to say the name instead of dodging with a pronoun--he was going to try this out, talking about it candidly.  Why he chose Riku as the guinea pig for this experiment, he couldn't explain, but it was strangely easy.  Maybe because they were relative strangers, maybe because he and Axel both played similar roles in his life.  
  
Riku blinked.  "Axel?  Seriously?"  
  
Roxas glared at him.  
  
"Okay, just... I wouldn't have guessed that, is all."  He shrugged a little, rocking on his toes and it really was cold out here, now that Roxas was paying attention.  Riku cleared his throat, broaching the subject with a sideways look.  "You love him?"  
  
Roxas swallowed and stopped looking at him.  "Yeah."  
  
"Can you fix it?"  
  
"I dunno."  He considered the space of air over Riku's shoulder, the trees beyond it, and wondered if he could.  If he could steel himself enough, if he could be willing to try.  If he could _prove_ he was willing to try, that he wasn't going to let this one go without saying anything.  Without making a stand.  "Maybe."  
  
"Well, you probably should.  You look pretty pathetic."  Riku shrugged when he looked up sharply, shook his head in apology.  "I'm not saying that to be mean, okay?"  
  
Roxas reflected, in the silence that followed, that he felt pretty pathetic, but he wasn't about to say so out loud.  After a minute or two the sand was crunching underfoot again and he thought maybe Riku had said his piece and was ready to leave, but the steps moved closer, the tire steadied again and he could almost feel the warmth from how close Riku was standing.  
  
"I really am sorry."  
  
The voice was close, and it startled him enough to look up and Riku... he looked honestly sad, just there, inches away from him.  Roxas swallowed that lump away again, felt his breath shiver.  "Yeah."  
  
"Just one," Riku murmured, and before he could ask what the hell that meant or even wonder it they were kissing.  
  
Riku's hand cupped his cheek between it and the swing's chain and both it and his lips were warm--so warm that Roxas didn't realize how cold it was until they were there.  For a second it didn't even register, aside from the warmth, he didn't even have the presence of mind to move or react and in the next second his nerves connected, his mind kick-started and informed him that yes, _Riku was kissing him_ , and sent a spark of electricity down his spine.  
  
Roxas shivered and blamed it on the difference between the warmth and the cold around him.  He tilted his head, because he had to do something and the idea of pulling away never occurred to him.  He slid his fingers into Riku's hair because he'd always wondered what it felt like, and for twenty brilliant, soft, slow seconds, Roxas did something he'd never done before.  
  
He closed his eyes.  He pretended, for those seconds, that he was sixteen and everything had gone right.  Maybe he'd forced those words out after all, maybe, after Riku got over the moment of shock they caused, he'd let Roxas follow him home.  Maybe they'd talked, joked a little to relieve some of the tension in the air and that worked until they were alone together, somewhere, struggling against the absolute terror at what they were doing to get out one slow, shivering kiss.  Riku's hands hot on his cheek and his shoulder, Riku's hair like silk between his fingers, Riku's lips making his tingle and both of them almost but not quite daring to deepen it.  Hovering right on the edge and not quite ready.  
  
And that was it, right there.  Twenty seconds, the entirety of the relationship they never had.  
  
It ended in that lingering way that kisses did sometimes, when both parties involved knew it wasn't going to happen again soon (or ever, in this case).  Little taste, brush of tongue, lips caught together and drawing back so, so slowly, millimeters at a time, until finally breaking apart.  
  
When Roxas's eyes fluttered open, Riku was smirking, thumb brushing his cheek for a moment before he stepped back, out of the past and into this new idea.  That maybe, possibly, they could be friends.  And maybe, possibly not kill each other, either.  He put a finger to his mouth, licked his lips in a kind of contemplation before shaking his head dismissively.  "I'm not the one you need anymore."  
  
Then, before Roxas could respond or even recover from the little tingle running through this entire body all the way from toes to fingers to the tips of his hair, Riku spun the tire swing around and dragged him off of it, leaving him to stumble to his feet in the sand.  
  
"Come on, you're gonna freeze to death out here."  
  
Roxas had come back to himself (mostly) by the time they were halfway to the dorm, walking along side by side in a comfortable silence that could never have existed before, even with someone else between them.  And with that in mind, Roxas shivered in the cold, tugged his flannel tighter and said, "Hey, about the other night."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"What I said.  About Sora."  Roxas looked up and sideways, just long enough for acknowledgment, that Riku was really listening.  He figured he would be from now on.  "I didn't mean it.  I take it back."  
  
Riku smiled a little, maybe it was more like his smirk but Roxas figured he'd get to know the differences soon enough.  "Yeah, I know."  
  
  
  
  
  
Sora was deeply involved with Roxas's music collection, methodically going through each CD in the many stacks covering his roommate's desk, examining the covers, turning them over to read the track list, then setting them aside for further review at a later time.  He was perched on Roxas's desk chair, boombox silent beside him, and this is where he was when the door opened and Roxas wandered in.  
  
He looked up and nodded, murmured an obligatory but warm "Hey," and resumed his cataloging, eyes roaming over the set list for Nirvana's _Unplugged in New York_ album.  Roxas said nothing, wandered across the room and leaned back against the windowsill, within Sora's line of sight but not looking at him.  He stayed there with his arms folded through several more CDs, thoughtful look on his face, staring at the linoleum, then straightened, finally.  
  
Sora looked up, and waited.  
  
Roxas's eyes were narrow, his teeth clenched behind his lips and he hissed a little, shifted against the window and resettled his shoulders, moved from side to side until he could relax enough to speak.  "You're way the fuck out of line, man."  
  
He nodded a little.  
  
"That wasn't fair to me."  Roxas's hands were shaking, just a little; he shoved them in his pockets to keep them still, hunched down and rested all his weight on the sill to keep from moving anymore.  But his eyes were still in a slitted glare, ice blue watching Sora with a kind of mistrust.  "You had no right to make that decision for me."  
  
Sora kept nodding, because it was all true and it might mean that their friendship was over, now, but that was okay.  He would have done it again.  "Yeah, I know."  
  
Roxas stopped looking at him and stared across the room, silent for long enough that Sora turned back to the jewel cases in his hands, turning one over and over without really seeing it.  Roxas stared, and stared, and eventually his attention jerked back to the side and he said, "You know what really isn't fair, Sora?"  
  
The question threw him off, made Sora pause in his stoic acceptance of Roxas's anger, nearly letting the small stack of CDs slip and tumble to the floor.  "What?"  
  
Roxas's face was drawn into a frown, not quite a scowl and he turned it on the floor under his feet, like the yellowed linoleum was somehow at fault.  "That this even has to be an issue to begin with."  
  
Sora toyed with the CD in his hand, looking down at the back of it for a long moment before flipping it over and opening the cover, carefully removing the disc inside.  "Yeah."  
  
The room was quiet for a moment--comfortably so, while Sora placed the CD in the boombox, clicked the cover shut and pressed the buttons to shuffle it forward a few songs.  He was getting better at operating the contraption, largely due to watching Roxas.  And asking for help, occasionally, but that wasn't worth his pride for admitting.  
  
Roxas sounded kind of tired, and Sora figured after the last few days he had every right to be.  He was stepping away from the window, one hand scratching the back of his head, considering Sora and the room around him before dropping his arm to his side and asking, "You still want to switch rooms?"  
  
Sora pushed the play button and looked up to meet his blue stare, not so much ice in it now, and smiled.  "Nah."  
  
The response was almost drowned out by the music starting, low and fast as it was, like it wasn't meant to be heard.  Roxas moving past him, back towards his wardrobe, as dismissive as forgiveness for a lesser slight.  
  
"Thanks, man."  
  
Sora licked his lips, leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, listened to Robert Smith's voice insisting that boys didn't cry.  Smiled at nothing, because Roxas wasn't looking or listening anymore; the entire controversy was over that easily.  "No problem."  
  
  
  
  
  
On Wednesday, Roxas skipped detention for the first time.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure he'd done something to warrant being there, to begin with--it had just become habit, going to the library after school every day, because even if he hadn't been directed to do so by a teacher or administrator, he probably had something in mind that would result in that.  So, some days he just took the lazy route, skipped actually doing the bad deed his brain was concocting, and went to serve his punishment regardless.  The monitor never batted an eyelash.  
  
Today, though, he had more important things to do than penitence for misdeeds he may or may not have committed.  
  
He took a shower, first.  Brushed his teeth, washed his face and scowled for roughly ten minutes at a zit on his chin, then scowled harder when that didn't make it flee from his face in terror.  Spent maybe a half-hour trying to get his hair just right--not as long as usual, maybe, but he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard.  He slapped on a little aftershave for effect, then went to the wardrobe to get dressed in the clothes that he'd picked out the night before, assuring they were clean and fresh and he'd even crept down to the communal ironing board just before lights out to press away all the wrinkles (and Sora probably thought he was crazy, now).  They were hanging on the door and he pulled them on quickly and tied on his shoes (the green ones, today), sure that it wouldn't be long before detention would be letting out and Sora would be on his way home, wondering why his roommate had ditched.  He didn't want to explain anything.  
  
He made sure he had his wallet, his keys, checked and double-checked himself in the mirror, straightened the collar of his flannel three times, then grabbed his skateboard and headed out.  
  
It was maybe three miles from the dorm to the community college campus, which was both too far away and far, far too close.  Every thump of his skateboard in the dip between sidewalk squares was like ticking away the seconds, each second tightening the knots winding up in his stomach, then his throat, then his chest, until his entire being was like a lumpy ball of twine that a bunch of hyperactive kittens had discovered.  He tried to go faster, get it over with, then slowed down because he didn't want to get all sweaty and ruin all the trouble he'd just gone through.  Hovered in between wanting to get there and wanting to be as far away as possible.  
  
He stopped, finally, in front of the brick and glass building, the sign out front denoting that it contained a number of student facility services, including--in what seemed to be letters five times as large and bold as the rest of them--the housing office.  He kicked the skateboard up into his hand, stood there and stared up at the building like he expected it to turn into a giant and stomp on him for roughly two minutes, then swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, and walked inside.  
  
The little birdlike woman behind the front counter looked up when he walked through the doors to their suite, blinking owlishly through her glasses for a moment as she processed his presence--and she remembered him as well as he did her, remembered her holding up the neat white-and-blue paper officially banning him from the college dormitories.  Not that it had kept him away, but still.  
  
She pursed her lips, staring him down, and when he stopped in front of her desk she said in the sharpest polite tone he'd ever heard, "Can I help you?"  
  
Roxas didn't bother saying anything--he reached back into his pocket to dig out his wallet, flipped it open to retrieve his driver's license, and dropped the little card on the counter in front of her.  
  
She spared it a glance.  "What's this supposed to be?"  
  
He swallowed again and took a deep breath, because he was really going to do this.  Yes, he was going to.  The knots in his stomach twisted painfully.  "You can lift the ban.  I'm not a minor, I never have been.  Look at the date."  
  
She was frowning at that point but picked up the card, stared at it for a long moment then looked back up at him with an uncertain but thoughtful stare.  "Have a seat."  
  
Roxas sat in their waiting area for what felt like hours, watching other students trickle in and out, watching the housing staff back by their little cubicles mulling over his ID and discussing things with each other that Roxas both wished he could hear and was glad he couldn't.  After an interminable amount of time the woman behind the counter finally settled back into her chair, called his name out and waved one finger in indication that he should come over, card in her other hand.  
  
The first thing she asked, when he paused there with his hands gripping the edge of the counter, was, "Why didn't you say so to begin with?"  
  
He shrugged a little, taking the card back when she slid it across the formica surface.  "I didn't want to get in trouble, I guess."  
  
"Well, you caused enough of that, either way."  Her voice was firm, mouth pursed primly, but the paper she passed across next had the word 'waiver' across the top and looked less imposing than the blue-and-white monstrosity she'd shown him before.  "Once this is signed we'll call the advisers and student security.  And you are not to stay for more than two nights in a row or we'll have to take action again, understood?"  
  
Roxas let out a breath, felt himself deflating as some of the knots loosened just a bit.  Something in his chest felt lighter, even, as he picked up a pen to scribble his name on the bottom of the form.  "Yes ma'am."  
  
All the knots came back, though, steadily, the closer he got to Axel's building.  
  
What if he wasn't there?  What if he said no?  What if it wasn't enough?  What if he got there and right in the moment that he most needed to say something the words just wouldn't come?  What if he blew it again?  
  
Roxas put his head down, grit his teeth and forced himself to walk, because if he didn't he was going to chicken out and run all the way home.  He clutched his skateboard at his side, reminded himself of early summer, saving up his pennies with Hayner so they could buy their first skateboards at the thrift store.  Roxas didn't have to save his pennies, of course; his dad could have bought him a shiny new board in whatever brand or style he wanted, but what Roxas wanted was to save up his money with Hayner--both of them together, working towards the same goal.  Picking up pennies off the sidewalk, searching for change under the stands at the rodeo grounds, helping Hayner mow his neighbor's lawn and then, finally, emerging from the thrift store triumphantly, both of them toting beat up old boards that they barely knew how to use.  
  
They made a beeline for the skate park that day.  Had paused just at the edges of it because there were older kids there, the tough looking kind, and that was the first time he'd seen Axel.  
  
Fourteen, gangly and perfect, he was sprawled out in the grass behind the halfpipe, talking with one of the other kids and grinning, one arm behind his head and the other waving in the air while he explained something, red hair hanging in his eyes, worn out band t-shirt and black jeans just slightly too small in the wake of a recent growth spurt.  Roxas had just stood there staring at him until Hayner socked him in the shoulder, asking if they were going to go try the ramps or what.  
  
Roxas held that image in his head, gut twisting as he stepped into the dorm's lobby.  
  
The resident adviser--the one who had escorted Roxas from the building weeks ago--was standing a little way in with a telephone handset wedged between ear and shoulder.  He noted Roxas's presence, nodded a little and waved him on and Roxas suspected it was the housing office on the other line, approving his visit.  His heart began pounding steadily as he climbed the short flight of stairs to the first floor, reflecting that it was easier but less interesting than climbing through the window.  By the time he pushed open the door to the hallway, his ears were ringing.  
  
A small group of students were congregated at the far end of the hall, a few clubs resting against the wall as they each took turns attempting to putt a neon-yellow golf ball into strategically placed styrofoam cups scattered in various places across the carpet, held in place with blue painter's tape.  A few of them looked up curiously as he made his way down the hall and paused, finally, just outside of Axel's door.  
  
Just as he was settling in to steel himself, though, one guy piped up over his shoulder, "Hey, didn't you get banned?"  
  
Roxas tried to relax, shrugged a little under his flannel and waved dismissively.  "It's cool, I worked things out with admin."  
  
"Oh, okay."  The guy shrugged a little in response and returned to his game, the others following suit, either satisfied with the answer or not really concerned enough to care that much.  He let out a breath and turned his attention back to Axel's door.  
  
He was going to do this.  He had to do this.  There were people in the hall and they would probably hear--hell, they might already know or guess what was up with him and Axel, and... that was okay.  It was, really.  It would be, he could deal with it.  
  
Roxas raised his hand and knocked three times, and felt like he was going to puke.  
  
He stood his ground through the shuffling he heard beyond the door, stood his ground when he heard the knob turning, heard the squeak of hinges as it swung open.  And he stood his ground when Axel appeared there in the doorway, hair disheveled, shirt wrinkled, still in the flannel pants he slept in when he wasn't sleeping with Roxas.  His eyes looked kind of red and tired and they blinked in disbelief upon finding Roxas at his door, mouth dropping open a little.  He even turned and looked back at the window for a moment in confusion, before turning back and taking in Roxas in the hallway one more time.  Processing, slowly, the fact that Roxas had just knocked on his door like a normal person.  
  
Axel wasn't going to say anything.  Roxas figured this out after something like a small eternity had passed (he guessed it was maybe a minute, maybe less but it felt much, much longer) and he finally cleared his throat, clutched his skateboard a little tighter, ducked his head and stared nervously at his toes and tried not to think about the kids down the hall, whether or not they had paused their putting again and were watching this.  
  
 _Say something.  SAY SOMETHING._  
  
"So--" Roxas choked out, finally, clamping down on his entire body just to get his mouth to move and please, god, let it say the right thing.  "You want to go get some dinner?"  
  
There was an instant of horrible, yawning silence where even his heart stopped and everyone present ceased breathing for a fraction of a second.  His eyes squeezed closed, fingers curled into fists and he waited for that door to slam in his face.  He figured if it did, he probably deserved it.  
  
But what happened after that instant was that he was suddenly moving forward, propelled by a hand on his shoulder and the door was swinging closed behind him, and he might have heard a whistle from out in the hall but he wasn't sure.  And an instant later it didn't really matter because Axel's arms were tight around him, Axel's nose was buried in the hair just over his right ear and Roxas could feel him breathing, feel his heartbeat, feel how warm Axel was and how cold he didn't realize he'd been until now.  All the knots in his body uncoiled at once, all the tension eased and he relaxed into that warmth, let his skateboard slip down to rest against his leg, curled his fingers in the hem of Axel's shirt.  
  
It might have been hours before anyone moved or spoke, but that was fine.  Roxas was good with this sort of thing taking hours, could probably have spent days or an eternity right here, like this.  Eventually though Axel shifted just a bit, slid one hand up to curl in Roxas's hair and said, "Yeah, I'd like that."  
  
Roxas's voice was muffled by t-shirt, lazy with warmth.  "Is Z working tonight?"  
  
"I think so, yeah."  
  
He smiled privately from his muted, darkened space in Axel's arms and figured he could probably float away just on this feeling.  He didn't think he'd ever been this happy and relieved and exhausted all at once and it made him laugh softly for no reason.  Eyes closing and just feeling the body against him, the fingers in his hair.  
  
Presently, he murmured, "You might wanna take a shower first."  
  
"Just a tip, Rox," Axel drawled, pulling away just enough that they could look at each other, and he didn't look as tired anymore, some of that redness gone from his eyes.  "You probably shouldn't imply that a guy stinks on the first date."  
  
"Well," Roxas shrugged in response, feeling his mouth tug into a smile for the first time in days, "if I ever have to ask you out for the first time again, I'll remember that."  
  
  
  
  
  
On Wednesday, Sora decided he was tired of this detention business already.  
  
He dropped his backpack by the desk and flopped down on his bed without ceremony, small 'oof' of breath and huff of blankets as he landed.  He figured, though, that if he could get through the rest of the week of boring, then next week his suspension was over and he could play the last two games of the season, and then the district tournament.  It would be worth it, ultimately.  
  
And it had been worth it tonight, because after the monitor finally released them from the library, he and Riku had raced each other to the little park, and then to the drive in, and they sat there for hours eating burgers and ice cream and for a while it seemed like nothing else in the world really mattered that much.  That all the big things could take care of themselves for a little while and Sora would just exist here, in the company of the boy he loved, and not worry about anything else.  
  
While he was collapsed on his bed and contemplating these things, a second bag hit the floor, the door swung itself closed and another body dropped onto his bed with another 'oof' of breath and huff of blankets.  
  
Sora rolled onto his side and glared playfully at Riku.  "What d'you think you're doing?"  
  
Riku shifted his head on the pillow, returned the playful glare with a playful grin for a moment before sobering a bit, hesitant smile on his lips, one hand up to reach over and smooth back Sora's hair.  "Are we okay?"  
  
He made a show of considering this, rolling his eyes upward and humming in thought until Riku smacked him, which started a small war of exchanging small socks and love-taps until Sora finally laughed and twined his arms around Riku's shoulders.  "Of course we're okay."  
  
Riku took a deep breath and let it out, like he really had been afraid that maybe the _relationship_ part of their relationship was over.  Sora figured, shifting closer to him, that after they'd known each other longer Riku would learn to tell when he was really mad, and when he was temporarily mad.  And Sora would learn more about Riku, too, and that was what made all this exciting.  
  
When Riku kissed him, he remembered that they hadn't kissed at all since that long, slow parting kiss on Saturday morning.  That they hadn't touched any more intimately than a hug since then, and that after Friday night the idea of making up was more thrilling than previously.  So when Riku's tongue teased at the seam of his lips, Sora shivered, clutched Riku's shoulders and then abruptly pushed him onto his back, climbing up to tangle himself with Riku, press warm and close over him, feel hands roaming over his back.  It was too good and right, what they had together.  Too deep.  And it was far, far too soon for it to just end, now.  
  
Riku had nothing to worry about.  
  
Sora pressed closer, hunched up on his elbows and tugged gently at Riku's hair to get him to tilt his head back, shivered at the moan in his throat and shifted his legs to settle his knees on either side of Riku's waist, deepening the kiss until he arched up beneath him, hands curling in Sora's shirt, both of them gasping and breaking apart.  Breath fast against each other's lips.  
  
Riku's eyes were glazed, and they fluttered closed as Sora nuzzled his cheek, licked his lips and asked--because practicality was a good thing, "You know where Roxas is?"  
  
"Nope," Sora replied against Riku's neck, contemplating this for about two seconds before his mind returned to priorities, those being making out with his boyfriend and all the things that involved.  
  
A few minutes later, sometime after another long, warm involvement with each other's tongues, while Sora was running hands under his shirt Riku murmured something like, "You know when he's gonna be--" but then it ended with a stuttered, "Oh, god," so really, who knew what that was about, anyway.  
  
Sora liked this, these long, hot moments of slowly torturing each other, this kissing and touching and moving together and hands slipping under clothes without ever really pulling them off, the uncertainty of should we try doing something or shouldn't we.  It made warmth pool in his stomach, hands dragging down over Riku's chest and imagining the smooth dips of muscle and warm skin underneath and he sat back for a moment, idea slipping into his mind as he felt backwards with one hand to make sure he didn't hit his head.  He reached up with both hands instead and wrapped them around one of the wood slats, mattress light on his knuckles without a body to weigh it down.  Riku's eyes fluttered open to see what was going on and why the touching had stopped, and Sora shifted to adjust his newfound leverage, and rolled his hips.  
  
Sparking pleasure that this caused aside, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything as hot as the sight of Riku writhing under him.  It made him think of other things that they might be doing, in this position.  With fewer clothes, perhaps, and those ideas made him shiver more, made him think that maybe they should stop being uncertain and just go for it.  Before he could think too hard about this, though, Sora heard his own voice moaning of its own accord, husky murmur of "Mm, want you," as he rolled his hips again, watching Riku's eyes darken with lust, fingers curling tight around Sora's hips, pulling them harder together.  "Just like this."  
  
And right there, right when Riku was growling, "Oh, fuck yes," just under his breath and Sora, despite his higher brain functions being a few steps behind, was prepared to start ripping clothes off--didn't matter whose, the end result would be the same--the door opened and Roxas walked in.  
  
And, having walked in, he promptly flattened himself against the wardrobe with hands over his face shrieking, "Oh, god, my eyes!"  
  
Riku, when he was in a state where he could breathe almost normally again, threw a pillow at him.  
  
Sora was laughing--at Riku, at Roxas dodging the pillow, at the ridiculousness of the scene in general, and after the glare he got from Riku for that he figured that probably wasn't the best reaction.  So he kind of shrugged, still tittering, rolled away to let Riku compose himself and committed the previous activity and position to memory, for revival at a later date.  
  
Because that was really, really hot.  
  
Roxas threw the pillow back in the general direction of the bed, as he still refused to look directly at them, and Riku caught it.  With his face, mostly, but he did catch it.  "Can't you guys keep your hands off each other for five minutes?"  
  
"How were we supposed to know when you were going to get back from--" Riku paused mid-tirade, pillow clutched to his chest, blinking and taking in Roxas's appearance.  "Were you on a date?"  
  
And to the shock of everyone present--not the least of which being himself--Roxas blushed.  Just a little, slight hint of pink across his cheeks.  Then he scowled and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.  
  
A second later, just as Riku had abandoned the pillow and Sora had scooted back closer to him, and their noses were rubbing together and the previous kissing was a hair's breadth from resuming, the door jerked open and Roxas stormed back out, one hand pointing at the near-kissing in accusation.  
  
"No sex allowed while I'm in the room!"  
  
He disappeared back into the bathroom, and the door slammed again.  
  
Then opened one last time, just a crack, so he could yell, "And that includes the bathroom!" before it slammed a third and final time.  
  
Sora was laughing too hard for any kissing after that.  For a few minutes, at least, and at that point he and Riku were laying on their sides facing each other, warm and close but touching more casually now that the mood was pretty well dead.  Except for Riku's smirk, because that always seemed to promise good things in the future.  He ruffled Sora's hair fondly.  "He was totally on a date."  
  
Sora hummed in response, and figured they were both thinking the same thing so it didn't need to be talked about.  If Roxas had come this far on his own, that was what mattered.  That justified everything in its own way--both the good and the bad.  
  
  
  
  
  
On Friday, the sun was out.  It wasn't really as warm as it could have been, and it barely managed to melt the cover of frost and little corners of snow here and there that never quite went away, but it raised the temperature of Riku's lunch spot a degree or two and that much was welcome.  Sora had begun wearing his Carhart jacket to school every day, and had been introduced to the concept of long johns a few days into winter proper when the school proved that its heating system was as antiquated as all its other facilities.  
  
He was getting used to it, he supposed.  He wasn't sure that he agreed with the idea of eating outside in this sort of weather, but Riku had laughed and assured him that he had clearance to eat lunch in the sign language classroom once the weather got bad.  
  
If this wasn't bad, Sora wondered what was.  
  
Roxas was under the tree on his skateboard, basket of fries he'd braved the cafeteria for perched on one knee, the other acting as a resting place for an open paperback while he gnawed on a fry and considered the text within, lounging back against the tree trunk.  
  
Riku had started a new hemp project, and was leaned against the fence working on it, something in a more complicated weave, alternating black and white beads.  Sora watched him for a while, fiddling with the bead in the center of his necklace and chewing on the apple from their shared lunch bag--Risa had started writing both their names on the brown paper, now, and Riku habitually turned the bag so that no one could see it, but Sora knew it was there, anyway.  
  
After his brief contemplation of his boyfriend (it was one of his favorite spare time activities), Sora returned his attention to the ground, fingers prodding at the grass that was beginning to go stumpy and brown as the weather grew colder.  A few moments of this and he sighed again, slumping onto his knees, and Riku finally looked up from tying a bead in place.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
Sora grumbled against his knees, then straightened enough that the others could hear him.  Riku, of course, and Roxas pretending to not be interested from behind his book.  "I haven't seen Dan and Jimbo for days."  
  
Riku blinked at him for a moment, and then something seemed to dawn on him and he nodded to himself, eyebrows drawing down as he opened his mouth and pondered a response.  Sora liked that look on him; it was cute, how his tongue pressed against his lower teeth.  "You know, Sora, it did snow last week.  And it dropped below freezing over the weekend, so I hate to tell you this but they're probably--"  His voice ground to a halt at the same time his eyes raised to meet Sora's, and he paused there, halfway to saying something, before his voice squeaked slightly and he concluded, "hibernating.  Like bears, you know, only... underground, or something."  
  
There was a strange, choking noise from somewhere in Roxas's general direction.  
  
"Really?"  Sora considered this, wondered if he'd ever heard anything about hibernating ladybugs before, then figured that biology had never really served him well if he didn't even know that the red ones were male.  "So, they'll come back out in the spring?"  
  
"Yes," Riku nodded vigorously as though to prove this, returning his attention to the hemp in his lap after shooting a glare towards Roxas, who seemed to be snickering.  "Yes, they will, and then they can hang with us again."  
  
"Only until we graduate."  Sora pointed this out and leaned back into his knees, sighing again.  "In May.  Crazy, huh?"  
  
Lunch continued in silence for several minutes after that, ostensibly in contemplation of Sora's point, all three boys quiet and attuned to their own thoughts and activities.  At the end of those minutes, however, Sora perked up and straightened.  "We should go on a road trip!  It'll be awesome, we can take Riku's car and go down to California and hang with my homies.  Cloud will totally put us up at his place, and then we can chill on the beach and celebrate being grown up.  Whad'ya think?"  
  
The consideration this induced was followed by Roxas chuckling behind his book, and Riku pulling a face.  
  
"See, the problem with this," Riku explained, setting aside his hemp for a moment and digging through the lunch bag for his juice box, "is that if we go to California, Tidus is going to want to come.  And I'm not riding for sixteen hours _anywhere_ with Tidus."  
  
"So, we'll take Axel instead, then you can say that the car is already full."  Sora nodded to himself, increasing in confirmation as he considered all the factors.  "And Roxas would want to take Axel anyway, right man?"  
  
Roxas responded without looking up from his book.  "Damn straight."  
  
"See, foolproof."  Sora grinned.  
  
Riku, though, sighed and shook his head, punching the straw into his juice with a kind of resignation.  "You don't know Tidus.  He'll strap himself to the roof of the car if he has to."  
  
Under the tree, Roxas finally slapped his book closed and rolled his eyes, shifting all attention to his fries for the duration of the conversation, stabbing one into the ketchup on the side as a kind of punctuation.  "That's why you don't tell him about it, genius.  Jeez, I can't believe you didn't come up with that one on your own."  
  
"You cannot comprehend his deductive powers."  Riku sipped on his juice, regarding the two boys in front of him with a world-weary expression of certain doom.  "The man has the school rumor mill at his command.  One hint of the possibility that we might be going somewhere and he'll be on us like a fly on honey."  
  
Sora was silent in the wake of this, twirling the bead at his throat some more and turning the facts over in his mind, weighing possible options.  Finally, he smacked a fist into his palm triumphantly.  "Wait, I've got it!  We'll distract him.  With..."  He paused for a moment while the idea caught up with him, eyes turning upwards, ignoring the stares from both sides, waiting.  "A guy!  Ah..."  
  
Roxas chuckled darkly, popping a fry into his mouth and resettling against the tree.  "Z would do it.  For a price."  His gaze darkened, eyes narrowing to match the evil smirk spreading across his face.  He was getting ideas.  "And conditions, man, lots of conditions."  
  
Riku got that same look on his face again, pondering, tongue against his lower teeth and Sora enjoyed staring at it while it lasted, right up until he sighed, and leaned forward, almost resigned to this crazy idea and whatever it spawned.  "...that seems kind of extreme.  And complicated."  
  
"Well," Sora observed with a grin, "That just means it's worth doing."  
  
  
  
  
  
Bright, Oregon still sits in the bowl-shaped center of an irrigated patch of desert, and in its own bowl-shaped center is County High School, sand-colored brick surrounded by desert grass, and somewhere in one of its small courtyards is a tree by a fence where two ladybugs may or may not be hibernating.  If time and life change the world and the people in it, if rock musicians and skateboarding laws come and go and return again as memories, then it might be worthwhile to note that sometime in May of 1996 a small carving was made in the bole of that tree, and all that it declares is the mangled date, and the phrase:  
  
 _All in all is all we are_.  
  
And that is probably enough for history to note.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Boys [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608348) by [SomethingIncorporeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal)




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